


Secret Adversary

by Velvet95



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvet95/pseuds/Velvet95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maura Isles gets pulled into international intrigue, and of course Jane jumps right in there with her.  Together they try to figure out a mystery that could potentially threaten everything they love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, to make sure I don't totally burn out on my usual LOK haunts, thought I'd throw my hand into another fandom, shake things up a bit. Change gears, if you will. It's a little nerve wracking because there are some wicked good writers in the Rizzles' fandom, but what the hey. No guts, no glory, right?
> 
> :)
> 
> I'm also a long time Agatha Christie fan, so I've come up with a story that hopefully blends the two in a fun way. I hope. Guess we'll see.
> 
> For my LOK readers, I'm still writing there, but maybe you'll enjoy this too. Any new readers, welcome!
> 
> -V95

“Damn, girl, what’s your hurry?” Detective Barry Frost looked over at his partner, the frantically scribbling Jane Rizzoli. She didn’t acknowledge him, her attention completely focused on the paper in front of her. He cocked his head as he considered her in the fading afternoon light filtering through the dusty blinds of the homicide division. Her tousled black curls were partially obscuring her face as she hunched over her desk, and he could just make out the furrow in her brow. His own paperwork finished, he decided a little entertainment was in order.

“Jane.”

No response.

“Jane.”

Still nothing.

A well-aimed crumpled piece of paper hit her on the side of the head “JANE!”

Startled, she glanced up, her look of concentration replaced with one of annoyance. “What, Frost?”

He merely smirked at her, then tilted his head at the paper in front of her. “What’s got you in such a lather? You stare any harder at that DD-5 you’re gonna set it on fire. You got a hot date tonight or something?”

Jane snorted and scribbled a few last lines, then threw her pen down on the desk and leaned back. “I need to finish fast so I can get home. Making Maura dinner tonight before she leaves.”

Frost nodded. “Where she going again? Prague?”

“Vienna. She’s giving the keynote speech at some forensics conference over there.”

“Chief Medical Examiner of Massachusetts giving a key note in Vienna,” he mused. “That’s something. Probably give it in German, knowing her.” He grinned, not missing the look of awed pride on his partner’s face that she hadn’t quite managed to suppress. “You’re going to be a grumpy pants detective the entire time she’s gone.”

She glared at him but he merely grinned.

“Don’t you be thinking you can hide anything from _me,_ partner.” He watched as she stood up to leave, shaking out her long arms and rolling her neck to loosen up after hours hunched over her desk. “Hey, seriously.”

She paused, glancing at him.

“Just nut up and tell her okay? You don’t want some dashing Euro-trash type sweeping her off her feet while she’s over there.”

Jane blanched and swallowed hard, a automatic retort on the tip of her tongue. Then she gave him a brief nod and hurried out the door. Frost stood up and straightened his tie, then smiled fondly in the direction of the closing elevator doors. He had watched the lanky detective and the fashion-conscious doctor circling each other for too long. It was time somebody did _something_.

“Good luck, partner.”

 

* * *

                                                                                                    

Jane stepped back and considered her table. She had borrowed a tablecloth from her stunned mother and scrounged up some candles and honest to God candlesticks, a previously forgotten bequest from a deceased great aunt. A bottle of Maura’s favorite pinot noir sat breathing between the two wineglasses, both washed multiple times until Jane was convinced even Maura would find them spot-free. The pot simmering on her stove filled her apartment with the delectable aromas of garlic and basil from her mother’s failsafe marinara recipe. Spinach and mushroom raviolis, her Nonna’s specialty she knew to be a favorite of Maura’s, were waiting for the medical examiner’s arrival so they would be as freshly cooked as possible when she plated.

Behind her she heard the rattle of keys and shouted, “It’s open!”

Doctor Maura Isles stepped through the door, all five foot seven inches of tailored Chanel and Louboutin heels. Some form of designer tote dangled from her elbow and seeing her caused Jane’s blood pressure to climb rapidly.

“Oh Jane, this looks lovely,” Maura exclaimed at the sight of the place settings, bag discarded on the couch before she pressed a delighted kiss against Jane’s cheek.

Jane blushed hard, then grabbed the bottle of wine. “A little wine while we wait for the raviolis? I’ll just toss them in now that you’re here.”

“Please,” Maura sat down, examining the candle holders with interest. “I must admit, I was fully expecting pizza and beer on the couch. I brought yoga pants and a t-shirt to change into.”

“Oh!” Jane stammered. It had never occurred to her Maura would _want_ pizza and beer. “Would you prefer that? I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have changed our routine—” Soft fingers pressed gently against her lips.

“I’m delighted, Jane.” Maura’s eyes twinkled. “So what are we having?”

Jane hurried over to the stove, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She made a show of hovering over the raviolis in an attempt to recover her composure. To her dismay Maura peered over her shoulder and took a delighted sniff, her chest pressing into Jane’s arm.

“Angela’s sauce and Rizzoli raviolis?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Maura stayed close, her hazel eyes warm with affection.

Jane found herself floundering for something else to say. “I mean, just making sure to feed you well enough so that you’ll come back,” she finally managed.

“I’m only gone for two weeks,” Maura pressed another kiss to Jane’s cheek. “You’ll barely notice I’m gone.” She returned to the table to collect the plates, discarding her heels as she went. Jane dished a liberal amount of raviolis and sauce onto each plate and followed Maura back to the table. She watched with eager anticipation as Maura closed her eyes and moaned around her first bite.

“So good,” Maura mumbled, her face rapturous. “You need to make these more often.”

Jane shook her head and reached for her wine glass. “Jesus, Maura. It should be illegal how you eat those things.”

Maura merely winked as she took another bite. They managed to eat the rest of their dinner with their more usual light-hearted banter, but after a while Maura cocked her eyebrow at the sight of Jane nervously ripping a piece of garlic bread to shreds without actually eating it.

“Jane, what’s wrong?”

Jane jerked her eyes up to see her friend looking at her with concern. “What? Nothing’s wrong.” She collected their plates and returned to the kitchen. “Did you get enough to eat? Let me get you some more.”

“I’m quite satisfied, Jane, but I’m worried about you now.” Her fingers gently divested Jane of both plates, and she placed them carefully in the sink before turning Jane to face her. She searched the detective’s face for clues. “Something is bothering you.”

There was a long silence as Jane stared at the floor and Maura stared at Jane.

“I’m going to miss you, Maur,” Jane finally mumbled, her face beet red.

“Oh, honey,” Maura said smiling, grasping Jane’s hands. “It’s only two we—“

“Maur,” Jane interrupted, her voice raspy with emotion. “Two _hours_ is too long to be away from you.”

Maura’s breath caught, her eyes widening. The dark haired detective’s body was taut with tension, her eyes full of emotion Maura had never seen before.

“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered. “I — I’ve needed to tell you, but I’ve been such a coward,” she paused, gathering herself. Maura took a slow step forward, her hands tightening their grip on Jane’s, her eyes never wavering. “I just haven’t found the words.”

“It may surprise you to hear me say this,” murmured Maura as she closed the final distance between them, tilting her head up. “But sometimes words are overrated.”

Jane’s lips captured Maura’s, hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence. Her fingers slid into honey blonde tresses and her thumbs caressed a perfect jaw. She groaned as Maura bit down gently on her bottom lip before releasing it, deepening the kiss. After a few blissful moments the finally broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other.

“That…” Jane gasped. “That is what I wanted to tell you.”

Maura pressed light kisses along Jane’s neck. “I told you words weren’t always necessary.” She ran her tongue of Jane’s racing pulse point, reveling in the sharp inhale above her. “In fact, a recent study published in the Stanford Journal of Psychology—“ She broke off as Jane kissed her again with a smile, and nudged her backwards until they fell onto the couch still clutching each other. Their tongues dueled languorously and hands slid under shirt hems onto the hot skin beneath. Long blissful minutes passed before Jane registered that she was cupping a lace-covered breast, one thumb reverently brushing across a hardened nipple as the doctor’s body began to arch into her hand. With a level of self-discipline she didn’t know she possessed she tore herself away, sitting back against the arm of the couch. Her chest heaved and her hair was even more tousled than usual.

The doctor’s eyes were dark with arousal, and she licked swollen lips as her eyes raked down Jane’s body. “I suppose some words might be prudent at this point, otherwise I strongly suspect we will start losing articles of clothing.”

“Oh geez, don’t say that,” groaned Jane. “It’s hard enough to not touch you as it is right now.”

Maura’s eyes twinkled even as she let out a frustrated huff. “You would choose the night before I fly to another continent to make this declaration, Detective.”

“Did you want me to take it back, Doctor?” Jane challenged playfully with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare.” Maura straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair back into it’s usual perfect state, to Jane’s annoyance. _Her_ hair probably looked like she’d stuck her finger in a socket. The rest of her body certainly felt that way.

“We can text,” continued the doctor, “and you can keep me appraised of anything interesting that goes on.”

“And you can send me pictures of Vienna and whatever.”

Maura beamed. “Of course. Also the River Danube and Budapest.” “Buda-what?” Jane flinched as Maura swatted her arm.

“Budapest is the capital of Hungary, as I’m sure you are perfectly aware. A dear college friend lives there and is also attending the conference, so we decided to take a river cruise from Vienna back to her home,” Maura smiled wistfully. “We haven’t seen each other since college, I can’t wait to catch up.”

Jane frowned. “ _Just_ a friend, right?”

Maura’s face went blank, then realization dawned and she smirked. “Jane Rizzoli, are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” Jane retorted. She crossed her arms and pouted, pointedly looking away from the amused blonde.

It didn’t take long for Maura to chuckle and push herself onto Jane’s lap, snuggling under her chin and breathing in the warm scent that was so indelibly Jane. She felt Jane’s arms pull her tightly against her. “I never thought this would happen,” she whispered. “I never believed you would ever feel this way.”

“Baby, it’s been years.” Jane pressed a kiss against Maura’s head and she smiled as she felt Maura’s lips brush her collar bone. “I wish I’d known how _you_ felt.”

“We’re both ridiculous.”

“Utterly ridiculous. There should be a law.”

They sat for a while longer, enjoying the feel of the embrace.

“Stay tonight?” asked Jane hopefully. “Just to sleep, I promise.”

Maura stirred against her, her grip tightening on Jane’s arm. “I’d like that.”

                                                                  

* * *

                                  

The alarm blared with its usual painful demands, and Jane rolled over and stretched, groaning. She stared blearily at the ceiling before hauling herself upright. A small smile touched her lips as the previous night’s memories washed over her. She had finally done it, she’d talked to Maura, and to her enormous surprise Maura had not only accepted her feelings, she’d returned them. She fell back against the bed, her arms spread wide. A crinkle of paper under hand caused her to blink, and she picked up the folded note left on Maura’s pillow. She’d managed to rouse herself long enough to kiss the doctor when she’d had to leave earlier that morning to catch her plane, but fallen back asleep soon after to happy dreams.

She unfolded the note, and as she scanned Maura’s precise script, her eyes once again teared up.

_“Smile the while you kiss me sad adieu,_

_When the clouds roll by I'll come to you,_

_Then the skies will seem more blue,_

_Down in lovers lane my dearie,_

_Wedding bells will ring so merrily,_

_Every tear will be a memory,_

_So wait and pray each night for me,_

_Till we meet again.”_

 

Jane caught herself sniffling, but kept reading.

_Jane,_

_This was my grandmother’s favorite song. You might consider it overly sentimental, but I will admit you’ve turned me into mush, Detective Rizzoli. I’ll be thinking of you, as I hope you’ll think of me._

_-Maura_

Jane kissed the note reverently, then blushed despite the lack of audience. She leaned over and rummaged in her pants, discarded on the floor. Fishing out her wallet from her pocket, she tucked the note inside.

“Mush indeed, Doctor Isles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Enjoy your fluffy start! The real action starts next chapter.
> 
> The song is "Till We Meet Again", an American song from the time of WWI. The music was written by Richard A. Whiting, the lyrics by Raymond B. Egan in 1918.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we introduce our first OC. Hope you like her!
> 
> :)

“Ich möchte der Europäische Akademie für Forensik für diese wunderbare Gelegenheit danken heute hier zu sprechen. Vielen Dank.” Maura smiled as she concluded her speech, and she waved in acknowledgement of the applause as she stepped away from the speaker’s lectern.

“You were wonderful, Maura,” exclaimed a beautiful dark-haired woman with caramel hair and dark green eyes waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. “So much more polished than our time at school together.”

Maura laughed lightly as she exchanged cheek kisses with her friend, Doctor Katalin Farkas, a Hungarian medical examiner of the police force, or Rendőrség, in Budapest. “Thank you, Katalin. You were always so generous with your time in helping me practice.”

“And you as well for me,” Katalin replied with a huge smile. “Those horrible boys who always made fun of my accent.” She sniffed. “But enough of awkward memories! We are in Vienna, the City of Dreams!” She hooked her arm through Maura’s and escorted through the dispersing crowd. “We must celebrate our reunion by strolling through the Naschmarkt. I found a food stall with the best apfelstrudel and the most delectable coffee.”

The afternoon sun was warm as they strolled along the Universitätsring, past the Austrian Parliament building and the Volksgarten before cutting through Maria-Theresien-Platz that separated the Museum of Natural History and Museum of Art History.

“A pity it is no longer summer and the museums are closed today,” Maura lamented.

“My friend,” Katalin retorted with a knowing look, “I will be glad that they are closed, otherwise I would lose you to their exhibits and never get my strudel.”

Eventually they arrived at the Naschmarkt, a large outdoor market that sold every conceivable food product and many other goods from around the world, in addition to the Viennese favorites Maura and Katalin were currently in search of.

“Did you know the Naschmarkt was originally established in the sixteenth century,” said Maura as they strolled through the crowds. “The name originates from the wooden milk jugs that were the primary product at the time, made from the ash tree.”

Katalin laughed delightedly. “I see you have not lost your habit of interesting trivia!”

Maura blushed. “Jane often teases me about that.”

“Ah, I hear so much of this Jane of yours,” teased Katalin. “You must tell me more about her.”

They arrived at the stall Katalin was so eager to return to and soon had piping hot cups of Viennese coffee, long a favorite of Maura’s with it’s rich espresso mixed with whipped cream, and a plate full of fresh made apfelstrudel, sliced apples baked in delicate pastry and dusted with powdered sugar. Maura sighed with pleasure at the decadence of the coffee and watched in amusement as Katalin took a large bite of her strudel.

“I still say that Kürtőskalács are my favorite pastry,” mumbled Katalin. “Hungarian chimney cake, delicious, I will get some for you you when we reach Budapest. But this,” she waved helplessly at the plate. “For this I might be convinced to commit culinary treason.”

“I will have to introduce you to my friend Angela’s cannoli. It is a wonder.” Maura hesitated, then added. “She’s Jane’s mother.”

Katalin’s eyes widened. “Again with this Jane! Okay, Maura Isles, how do you say in America? Enough stalling, give me the dirt.”

Maura smiled ruefully as she described the history of herself and Jane. Her friend stayed on the edge of her seat with her grin growing broader at each detail of the story.

“And she kissed you!” Katalin cheered. “I had no idea you were inclined this way.”

Maura shook her head. “I wasn’t, before Jane. I don’t think she was before me, either.”

“Two virgins in bed is one virgin too many,” Katalin chuckled. “Old saying, and please don’t start by saying you’re not virgins.”

Maura smirked in acknowledgement. “No, but you’re right. When we come together physically, it will be a new experience for both of us.” She shrugged. “I am an expert in anatomy and not shy about expressing my preferences. I have no doubt it will be enjoyable experience once we choose to take that step.”

Katalin shook her head as she took another bite of strudel. “So clinical, Maura! We need to work on the romance in your soul.”

 

* * *

 

 

“For fuck’s sake, Frost,” Jane groaned as she hovered over her partner’s shoulder. “How many dark, late model sedans are there in Boston?”

Frost leaned back, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question because you’ve been leaving over me for the past hour swearing at my computer while I do all the work writing down license plates.”

Jane stalked back over to their board and glared at the crime photos. The body of a young woman had been found beaten to death early that morning. She had been discovered by the early morning cleaning crew of a nearby restaurant when they went to take out the garbage. Maura’s assistant coroner Kent had provided a rough time of death and a canvas of the surrounding neighborhood revealed a witness to an altercation of a man and woman in the alley, with the man departing alone by car soon after. The victim had contusions to her face and arms, but had died due to blunt force trauma to the back of her head and had just been identified as a freshman at BCU on a lacrosse scholarship who had been reported missing by her worried roommate.

Jane was taking this one very personally.

“Who the hell describes a car as a dark, late model sedan anyway?” Jane growled. “How about, it was black. It was a Honda. It had pink rims.”

Frost glanced over at where his partner seethed in front of their sadly empty evidence board. “Pink rims? Really?”

She waved a middle finger in his general direction without turning around, her gaze focused on the picture of the dumpster, the victim’s hand visible in the lower corner.

“Frost?”

He pushed himself back from his desk with a groan and joined her.

“See that?” She gestured at the picture.

He squinted. “No, what am I looking at?”

“My gut says something important. Come on, let’s go. Have Frankie and Nina run all those fucking plates.”

She stomped her way to the elevators while Frost scrambled to keep up. The steel doors opened revealing her supervisor, Sergeant Detective Korsak, returning from the Cafe with a tray of coffee in his hand. Jane grabbed one as she pushed past him. “Korsak, I love you, but we gotta go.”

He raised one eyebrow at Frost as he took his own cup and the younger man shrugged noncommittally in turn.

“Jane’s guts are apparently speaking to her.”

“Let’s _go,_ Frost,” Jane demanded from the elevator.

“Ah,” Korsak dead-panned. “Far be it from me to argue with Jane’s guts.”

Jane was uncharacteristically silent in the car, not even commenting on Frost’s incessant flipping of radio stations. Finally, he found something he liked and leaned back, studying his partner out of the corner of his eye. Both of her hands gripped the wheel and she stared straight ahead, clearly lost in her thoughts.

“She’s been gone, what, three days?”

She shot him a look, but made no response.

He smirked, then choked back a laugh as a new song came on the radio and he immediately turned it up.

_Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone._

_Ain’t no home when she’s away_

Frost couldn’t help himself and joined in as loud as he could.

_Ain’t no sunshine, when she’s gone_

_And she’s always gone too long_

_Every time she goes away_

Jane scowled and flipped the radio off.

“What,” Frost taunted. “You saying you don’t like Bill Withers? Is it a black thing?”

She smacked him the arm as he laughed. “No, it’s an annoying shit-head partner I’m gonna have to shoot thing.”

“Come on, Jane,” he said with a grin, his arms still held up in a defensive pose. “It’s okay to say you miss her, you know.”

She sighed and ran one hand through her tousled hair. “Can we please just do this?”

They pulled up in front of the alley they had been at earlier that day, crime scene tape fluttering in the afternoon breeze. A uniform sat nearby leaning against his cruiser looking bored, but he perked up when they approached him.

“Sup, Johnson?” Frost called out in greeting.

“Hey Frost, Rizzoli. Some asshole came by not too long ago and tried to get into the alley. Said he lost something.” The patrolman gave them a wink. “I told him to leave me a description and I’d have somebody call him. Then I had him walk in front of the dash cam, just in case. Seemed in a bit of a hurry, if you can believe that.”

Jane clapped him on the shoulder with glee. “Oh yeah, I can only imagine. You just waiting for your relief?”

The officer nodded.

“Call in to dispatch and get somebody else out here now. I want your car and its pretty pictures back at the lab ASAP.”

“You got it, Detective.”

“Oh, and Johnson?” Jane called. “Fucking smooth as always. Beer’s on me at the Robber when we close this, alright?”

“Hey, if that ends up being our guy, how about you put in a good word for me when they’re reviewing detective candidates?”

“Fuck yeah, wouldn’t mind seeing your sorry ass in a cheap suit like the rest of us.”

Frost scoffed. “Speak for yourself, partner. This shit here is polyester free.”

Johnson coughed back a laugh and turned to his radio to hide his grin.

Jane ducked under the tape, pulling on a pair of latex gloves before kneeling near the corner of the dumpster. She ducked down and reached gingerly underneath, retrieving a piece of brass and leather with a snapped key ring dangling from it.

“That what we drove out here for?”

“This is it.” She held up a the remains of a Buick key charm, bent from the force of it being ripped off a keyring.

“So,” Frost ponders aloud as she carefully slides it into an evidence bag. “The perp gets into it with our vic, chases her in here maybe. She tries to fight him off, slams her into the dumpster. He’s got his keys in his pockets, or maybe hooked to his belt and this catches in the seam here. In the heat of it he doesn’t notice it’s been ripped off, but he realizes it later.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Frost grunted. “CSU is gonna be hatin’ life that they missed this. Maura’s gonna have things to say.”

“As long as she’s here to say it,” Jane muttered, her friend’s absence a constant low grade ache in her chest. She took a deep breath and clamped down her emotions before returning to their car. She had a perp to catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t speak German, so apologies to any speakers of the language, but this is what it’s supposed to say:
> 
> “I would like to thank the European Academy of Forensic Science for this wonderful opportunity to speak here today. Thank you very much.”
> 
> Also, of COURSE Maura would give her speech in German. I mean, please.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more fluff, on to the action!

The bright lights of Vienna receded in the twilight. Maura stood watching them, a flute of champagne held loosely in her hand. She felt a light hand on her shoulder and turned to see Katalin smiling at her.

“I think our table is ready, Maura.”

“Excellent, I’m—“ She stopped. Behind Katalin was a surprisingly familiar face, and she gasped as she realized who it was — the same brown eyes, suntanned face, boyish grin, and oozing sex appeal that she had sworn off of long ago.

“Hallo, Maura.”

She took a deliberate sip of her champagne. “Doctor Faulkner.”

He winced. “Come on, Maura, it’s Ian.”

She said nothing, merely raised one eyebrow at him in blatant challenge.

He signed as Katalin looked back and forth between them. “You know each other?”

“Maura is an old friend,” he said with a smile. “A very dear old friend. I heard about your speech, congratulations.”

“Doctor Faulker is an old acquaintance, and frankly one with a rather negative history,” said Maura flatly, ignoring his attempts at flattery. She secretly relished the chance to practice what Jane had been teaching her about being one with her inner bad-ass. Her last encounter with Ian Faulkner had left her shaking and devastated, and she had no intention of ever granting him that much power over her again.

“Now Maura,” he protested, a smirk on his face. “There was a time when your kisses were what got me through the day.”

“Mine and around five other women, as I recall,” she replied frostily. “I trust you have no designs on Doctor Farkas. She has far too much integrity for the likes of you.”

He held up his hands, a hurt expression on his face. “Katalin and I were just getting acquainted at the bar, and I was ecstatic to discover she was with you.” He smiled winsomely as Maura scowled.

“I assure you the feelings are not reciprocated. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

He turned to the Hungarian woman. “Another time, perhaps.” He nodded at them both then disappeared back into the crowd.

“Well,” said Katalin as she watched him leave, “the world is small.”

“I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds,” Maura murmured as they made their way to their table.

Katalin laughed. “Not at all. He was fun to chat with, but other than the potential for meaningless but pleasurable vacation sex, he’s not really my type.”

Maura unfolded her napkin in her lap. “Well, I don’t recommend him as a human being, but I won’t deny you’d likely find him a satisfying sexual partner.” She accepted a bowl of soup from the waiter and took a pensive sip. “I find myself quite surprised to see him here of all places.”

“He mentioned he was vacationing.”

Maura hummed noncommittally. She knew perfectly well that Ian didn’t take vacations in the traditional sense; rather he went places to obtain supplies he needed for his humanitarian projects in Africa, and as the United States and Western Europe was no longer a safe place for him to travel, he had apparently changed to Eastern Europe as an alternate source of the medications he wished to acquire.

“May I recommend if he starts to talk to you about supporting his various causes in Africa that you change the subject,” she said at last. “He’s wanted in several countries for drug smuggling.”

Katalin’s eyebrows went up, then she laughed and shook her head. “There’s a story there I am sure.” She waved her hands vaguely, as if brushing away a fly. “However, enough about him.” She smiled as their waiter pulled out her chair. “I’d love to hear about any interesting cases you have had lately.”

“Curare poisoning.”

Katalin blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Maura replied. “I will admit it took a while to determine the toxicology.”

“An Agatha Christie fan, perhaps.”

Maura chuckled. “I suppose it’s possible. It certainly has an old-fashioned feel to it, particularly as it was administered via contaminated toothpaste.”

“And thus introduced via the gums,” Katalin nodded. “Well, we tend to have nothing so interesting that passes through my doors,” mused Katalin. “Domestic violence that gets out of hand is of course too common, but more the gangs killing each other. Too many young men with bullet holes.” She shrugged. “Drugs, guns, prostitution and slavery — they all fight for control of the city and the smuggling routes and kill each other with some regularity. It was a relief to get a few weeks off.”

Maura nodded sympathetically. “I can certainly understand that. Jane works long hours due to her case load.”

“And you work long hours supporting her,” Katalin murmured with a knowing smirk.

Maura blushed. “I support all my detectives, Doctor Farkas,” she retorted. “We’re on vacation, let’s pretend to have other interests, shall we? How are your grandparents.”

Katalin beamed. “They are well. I try to visit often.” She shook her head. “I have tried to have them come live with me so I can keep a better eye on them as they are getting older, but they will never leave the farm.”

They paused as their dinners were placed before them. Maura took a cautious bite of the veal schnitzel and smiled. “This is surprisingly good,” she commented. “And your father?”

Katalin’s smile faded. “He is missing. As you know he was convicted of being a Soviet collaborator and committing crimes against the state.”

Maura nodded. “I remember you mentioning that.”

“Well, he apparently still had friends in high places. He was secretly removed from the prison and apparently released.” Katalin sighed. “If my mother is probably turning in her grave. Her husband, wanted by the Rendőrség and Interpol.”

Maura squeezed her friends hand. “He didn’t try to contact you?”

“No,” said Katalin firmly. “And I don’t want him to. He gave up the right to be in my life.” Her expression was fierce and Maura had no doubt her friend meant what she said.

They were knocked to the floor by a huge blast from the front of the ship. The air was filled with smoke and screams. Maura found herself curled into a ball, her arms right around her head. She lifted herself up cautiously, looking around. “Katalin?”

The dark-haired woman pushed a chair off of herself, groaning. “This is not my idea of a pleasant cruise,” she complained. She scanned Maura, then winced.

Maura gasped at the piece of glass embedded in the Hungarian’s leg. “Hold still, let me take look.”

“Maura? Katalin?” Ian emerged from the smoke, his hair disheveled and his cheek bleeding from a cut under his eye. “Thank God you’re both alright.”

“Do you have a knife?” Maura demanded.

Ian blinked then produced a folding knife from his pocket.

“Cut me several strips from that tablecloth,” she ordered. “I need to bind her leg.”

Ian blanched when he saw Katalin’s leg but worked quickly, handing off each strip to Maura. The boat lurched and Katalin groaned at the movement. There was a definite tilt to the deck and Maura felt a chill at the realization that their boat was starting to sink.

“If that’s pierced a blood vessel,” Ian began.

“Would you rather try to get her out of here with that glass still in her leg?” Maura asked angrily. “You pull it, and I’ll get these on as tight as we can.”

Ian slung his satchel off his shoulder and placed it against Katalin’s chest. “Hold this for me, my lovely. This will sting a bit.”

Katalin bit her lip and nodded, meeting Maura’s gaze. Maura gripped the bandages and blew out her breath.

“Here we go, on three. One, two, three!” Ian yanked the glass out and Katalin screamed. He caught her as she fell back. “Hang on there, almost done.”

Maura swiftly wound the long strips around the shaking leg, noticing that it was not gushing as badly as she feared; the larger blood vessels had thankfully been missed. The ship lurched again, and Ian looked up in alarm. The ship’s crew was screaming for everyone to get onto a lifeboat.

“Okay, time for a ride.” He scooped Katalin up off the floor. She maintained her death grip on the satchel, her face white with pain. “Come along, Maura. We need to get to the boats.”

Maura hurried along behind them, wishing she could discard her shoes but couldn’t with the broken glass littering the decks.

Two porters rushed up to Ian, taking Katalin between them and easing her into the life raft. Maura scrambled after her. Ian held back, a strange look on his face. “I’m going to make sure every one else is clear,” he shouted over the growing cacophony.

“Ian, wait!” Maura called, but he was gone.

One of the porters jumped aboard and pulled the hatch closed, then hit the release controls. With a sickening drop they hit the water and a bright locator beacon activated, blinking brightly in the gloom. Behind them the ship shuddered with another explosion, the screams clearly audible over the roar of frames and the creak of the hull as it wrenched apart.

Katalin clasped her hand tightly, and together they peered through the porthole of the lifeboat as their ship sank into the deep blue waters of the River Danube.

Behind them the porter started swearing in German, and the other passengers gasped. There’s was a problem with the hatch seal, and water was starting to pour in.

 

* * *

 

Jane swaggered into the bullpen before flinging the case file onto her desk with a flourish.

“Caught the bastard,” she announced happily. “And we let Johnson do the collar in return for helping us figure out who he was. Frost’s running him through booking now.” She stopped and looked around.

Frankie, Nina, and Korsak stood at the entrance to the BRIC, and they were all staring at her apprehensively.

“What’s up?”

Frankie cleared his throat. “Um, we just found out about—“ his voice broke.

Jane’s heart stopped. “What is it?” she whispered, pleading.

Korsak walked over and grabbed her by the shoulders. “There’s been a bombing. A riverboat in Hungary.”

“No, no, no,” Jane breathed. “She’s not gone. She’s not.”

“We can’t get a hold of her, Jane,” said Frankie, his voice low and anguished. “Her name was on the passenger manifest. Nina just got a copy of it.”

Nina cleared her throat, but her voice still throbbed with suppressed tears. “It’s total chaos over there and they’re having trouble finding everyone. They’re still pulling bodies out of the river. We don’t know who’s alive or not yet.”

“NO!” Jane screamed, wrenching away from Korsak’s sympathetic grip. “She’s. Not. Gone.”

She ran to her desk and grabbed her keys.

“Jane! Where are you going?”

“Hungary.” She looked back at them all, her expression fierce. “I’m going to go find her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have sworn curare by toothpaste was a plot device was in one of the Agatha Christie books, but of course now I can't find it for citation. I mean, she only wrote over 60 books...
> 
> *sigh*
> 
> We'll just pretend, shall we?
> 
> :)


	4. Chapter 4

Jane burst out of the elevator and headed for the doors, her gym bag gripped tightly in one hand. She had grabbed the extra outfit she kept in her locker as well as her workout clothes, and figured she could buy a toothbrush once she got there.

“Hey! Janie!”

She groaned and turned to see her mother Angela rushing up to her, her face frantic. “Your brother just called me about what was on the news. Is it true that Maura was on that boat?”

Jane gritted her teeth. The last thing she wanted to do was lose it in the lobby of the Boston Police Department. “Nina managed to get ahold of the passenger manifest after she saw the broadcast and yeah, she was on the boat. Ma,” she grabbed Angela’s hand and squeezed. “I gotta go.”

“Go?” Angela looked bewildered. “Where are you going?”

“To bring her home. I can’t sit here waiting, Ma,” her voice broke. “I love her.”

“I know you do, baby.” Angela wrapped her in a huge hug, smiling despite her distress. “I’m so happy to finally hear you admit it. I’ll call Tommy to get Jo.” Then her face dropped, horrified. “Do you think Constance knows?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’ll call her on the way to the airport.”

“Be safe, Janey,” her mother whispered as she pressed a kiss to Jane’s cheek. “Bring her back to us.”

“Rizzoli!”

Both women turned to see Detective Cavanaugh trotting over. “Last minute leave, Detective?”

“Yes, sir.” Jane didn’t bother to argue. She was willing to quit on the spot if he was going to give her a hard time.

“I’ll give you a ride, let’s go. Angela.” He acknowledged Jane’s mother with a quick touch to the shoulder then turned for the exit.

Jane blinked in surprise then nodded sharply as she followed him out.

The approach to Logan airport had never seemed so painfully slow to her. She left a voicemail for Constance Isles, Maura’s world traveling artist mother, and hoped she got it soon. Other than that the car ride was silent, the lieutenant showing he still knew the streets of Boston as well as any beat cop.

Finally they reached the international terminal. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a card. “Here. Old academy buddy of mine got into the intelligence service and I think he’s currently working for NATO. He might be able to help if you need some contacts.”

Jane carefully tucked the card into her wallet, then face palmed. “Shit. I can’t take my service piece on the plane for an international flight.” She unclipped her Glock and handed it to him and he smirked as he tucked in his jacket pocket. “Thanks, Lieu, I mean it.”

“Get her back, Rizzoli,” he responded seriously. “I’ve already reached out to my contacts in the FBI and Homeland to see what they can find out, so don’t lose your phone. We’ll send you anything we can find out.” He reached out a weathered hand. “Stay in touch, and get the fuck outta here.”

“Yes, sir. I’m gone.”

As she strode through the terminal she felt her phone buzz.

“Rizzoli.”

“Detective? It’s Constance Isles. You left me a message?”

Jane swallowed hard. “Mrs. Isles, thank you for returning my call. Have you seen the news of the bombing in Hungary?”

There’s a hiss of static. “I’m sorry, no, Detective. Arthur and I just arrived in Johannesburg for a conference after meeting up in Tanzania. He is one of the keynote speakers.”

“Mrs. Isles,” Jane ducked into a quiet corner behind a palm tree to escape the bustling roar of the terminal. “A riverboat traveling from Vienna to Budapest was bombed yesterday.” She took a deep breath. “Maura was on the boat. We haven’t heard from her.”

A choked sob sounded through the phone and Jane clenched her jaw in an attempt at keeping her emotions at bay.

“I’m on my way to Hungary now,” she managed, her voice getting hoarse despite her best efforts. “I will find her, I swear to you.”

“Detective,” Constance paused, her voice breaking. “I will arrange a flight immediately, but coming from South Africa I’m not sure how long it will take. Are you heading directly to Budapest?”

“Yeah, though the bombing was apparently right on the border so the Austrians are apparently doing a joint thing with the Hungarians for the investigation, but I only got that much from the news.” Jane glanced at her watch. “I need to catch my flight, but I will call you as soon as I can. If you need to, you can reach me at this number, okay? Just leave a message or a text and I’ll get back to you.”

“Yes, I have it. And Jane—” She paused. “Thank you. Thank you for caring so much about Maura.”

Jane felt hot tears streak her cheeks and she took a shuddering breath. “She’s the most precious thing in the world to me, Mrs. Isles.”

“I know,” came the quiet response. “I’ve known that for a while. I have no doubt you’ll find her and when you do, keep her safe.”

“I will,” Jane whispered.

 

* * *

 

Maura awoke to the sound of muffled voices. She blinked, her mind confused. Her eyes cleared slowly until she realized she was looking at the branches of a tree, lying flat on her back on the riverbank. She pushed herself up, her dress muddied and torn, her shoes gone. The muscles in her arms and back ached, and her head throbbed.

“Maura!”

She turned and saw Katalin hurrying towards her wearing a gray coverall followed closely by several men in blue coveralls emblazoned with the word TŰZOLTÓKA. Ian’s satchel was slung across her shoulder. She felt a surge of relief. “Oh thank goodness, Katalin. Are you alright?”

“Bedraggled and waterlogged but I am fine,” her friend assured her. “Others in the lifeboat were not so lucky.” She grabbed a wool blanket from one of the men and wrapped Maura up, engulfing her in a huge hug. “I’m so relieved to find you,” she said brokenly.

Maura clutched the blanket to herself more tightly, grateful for the warmth. “I remember having to swim for it, but it was very chaotic in the water, and very cold.”

“Yes, the lifeboat had a problem.” The rescue personnel helped them both up and they made their way from the riverbank. “I lost track of you in the water. There was so much screaming…” The Hungarian said softly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t drop the satchel,” Maura teased. “Ian will be so pleased.”

Katalin shrugged. “It would have been harder to get rid of it at the time, and it’s made it with me this far.”

Flashing lights greeted them as they emerged from the woods into an hastily constructed operations center, and the men led them to a first aid station where they both handed hot cups of tea. A harried looking woman rushed over, a clipboard in one hand.

“Was ist Ihr Name, bitte?” she asked.

Maura responded automatically. “Doctor Maura Isles. Das ist meine Freundin Doktor Katalin Farkas.”

The woman scowled at her clipboard, then her face brightened and she crossed two names off her list. “Ah! American. Very glad to see you, Doctor Isles.” She turned to Katalin. “And you, Doctor Farkas. I am here as part of the Austrian SAR team, assisting our Hungarian friends. There is a bus waiting to take passengers on to Budapest once they are cleared by the medical personnel, or if you prefer we can take you back to Vienna.”

“I will go on to Budapest with Doctor Farkas,” Maura replied and Katalin nodded. “I assume our luggage is lost.”

The woman nodded somberly. “I am afraid so, Doctor Isles. In the unlikely event we recover any personal belongings please leave contact information with the cruise company and they will deliver it.” As she turned to leave, Katalin gestured towards the satchel and raised an eyebrow. Maura’s eyes widened and she reached out a hand to halt the woman’s exit.

“Please, do you have a record of a Doctor Ian Faulker?”

The woman’s gaze dropped back to her clipboard, frowning.

Maura felt Katalin grab her hand as they both saw the answer in the woman’s face.

“I’m sorry Doctor Isles. He has not been found.”

 

* * *

 

 

The door to Katalin’s flat clicked shut and both women sighed with relief.

“I am opening up a bottle of whiskey,” the Hungarian declared. “I assume you will have some?”

“Please,” Maura agreed, looking around the well appointed flat with interest.

The furniture was mostly old but looked well made, consisting of overstuffed leather arm chairs, an oak coffee table, and a beautiful sideboard with what was likely heirloom china and crystal. A scuffed dining table sat in the corner, covered with papers and used coffee cups. Most of the walls were lined with shelves covered in books, momentoes, framed photographs and in one corner a collection of different species of skulls. Maura smiled as she accepted the offered glass from Katalin and made a beeline for the skull collection.

“You’re still collecting them, I see.”

Katalin smirked. “It works wonders for helping weed out the boring men. Any man who sees them and is not fascinated is clearly not worth bothering with.”

Maura fingered one large skull with brutal looking canines.

“Ursus Spelaeus,” Katalin said from behind her. “Cave Bear.  My most recent acquisition. It is from the Pleistocene era.”

“Beautiful.” Maura gave the skull an affectionate pat then turned and sank into an overstuffed chair. “Tomorrow I need to find a computer cafe or a place to acquire a cell phone. If the sinking was on the news my family will be worried.”

“And Jane, no doubt.”

Maura swirled the amber liquid and met Katalin’s gaze. “Jane is the most important family I have.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to anniwndrrr for the German translation assistance (for which I have made corrections).
> 
> Also -- a little short, sorry, but setting up for the next big piece of storyline.

“Ladies and gentleman, please raise your seats and tables to the fully upright position. We are beginning our final approach into Ferenc Liszt International Airport. Local time is seven forty-five AM. Highs today should be a balmy eighty degrees with a low of sixty three. Please enjoy your stay in Budapest and thank you for flying—“

Jane groaned and tuned out the overly cheerful flight attendant and fumbled in her coat pocket for her cellphone, clutching it in one hand. The second the plane landed she turned it on and as it booted it started beeping vociferously, announcing a frenzy of missed calls, texts, and emails. She sighed and started scrolling through the list. Fully half were from her mother and she passed them by for now.

At the end was a message she wasn’t expecting, and her heart started to pound.

_Message From: Maura Isles_

She selected it with a trembling finger.

_Hello everyone! If you at all were worried about me due to any news reports about an explosion on a river ship please know I am a little worse for wear, but alive and well. At the moment I am without computer or phone (I am sending this from an internet cafe) but I will be obtaining a phone as soon as possible. Talk to you all soon, Maura._

Jane checked the time the mail was sent: seven thirty-eight. She hastily typed a response.

_Maur - just landed in Hungary. Where are you? Coming to you._

A throat cleared itself next to her and she looked up to see the plane was otherwise empty and the flight attendant looking at her meaningfully. She smiled sheepishly then clicked send, grabbed her bag and hurried off the plane, praying Maura would get her message before leaving the cafe. Once in the terminal she checked her phone again, and to her enormous relief a response was waiting for her.

_Why on earth are you in Budapest? Come to this address, we’ll wait for you._

Jane shook her head. Only Maura would wonder why she would drop everything and fly thousands of miles to be with her after she had been on an exploding boat. She noted the address and tried to ignore the potential implications of the ‘we.’

* * *

 

 

Maura stared at the computer in shock, then turned to her friend. “Katalin?”

Her friend looked as her as she took another sip of her coffee, her eyes slightly glazed from fatigue. “Hrm?”

“You’ve been very adamant on hearing details of Jane.”

Katalin set her coffee on the table and leaned forward. “Of course, but why do you mention this?”

Maura picked up her own coffee and smiled. “She’s here.”

“What, here in Budapest?”

Maura nodded.

Katalin’s face looked awed. “She heard about the ship and got on a plane.”

“It appears so.” Maura smiled, her own exhaustion fading away. “She’s on her way now from the airport.”

The Hungarian sat back, a smug look on her face. “The great Maura Isles is in love, and finally with someone worthy of her! It is a pleasure to see.”

Maura blushed and hid embarrassment with another pull at her coffee. “I suspect the two of you will get along far too well for my comfort.”

Katalin smirked and bit into a croissant. “I can’t wait, Doctor Isles.”

It didn’t take long; Maura had no doubt Jane had done her best to hurry the taxi along, and it was only fifteen minutes after the last email that a familiar dark-haired figure emerged and looked around.

“Jane!” Maura walked swiftly towards her.

The lanky detective whirled around and spotted her, her face lighting up. They ran to each other and Jane whirled Maura around breathing “Thank God, thank God, thank God” over and over again into blonde locks.

The sound of laughter eventually interrupted them. Jane hastily wiped the tears that had leaked out as she took in the stunning dark haired woman approaching them with a huge grin, but her arm remained firmly in place around Maura’s shoulders, and Maura’s arms were still tight around her waist.

“Before you say anything embarrassing,” Maura told her friend firmly, her head resting against Jane’s shoulder. “Allow me to introduce Detective Jane Rizzoli. Jane, this is my friend Doctor Katalin Farkas. We met in medical school and she now serves as the medical examiner for the Hungarian police department.”

“What is it with beautiful medical examiners?” Jane quipped as she extended a hand. “Very nice to meet you.”

Maura beamed, then frowned. “I will warn you that she is impossible.”

“So she’s like a Hungarian version of you?” Jane joked, her eyes twinkling, then flinched as Maura pinched her side. “Ow!”

“Ah, we will get along very well, I think,” Katalin announced, looping her elbow through Jane’s free arm and leading them both back to their table in the cafe. “Now, let’s welcome you to Budapest with some fine coffee and perhaps a pastry or two”

Jane smiled broadly. “You’re speaking my language, Doctor Farkas!”

 

* * *

“Wine, Jane?” called Katalin from the kitchen.

Jane looked up from her examination of the small chess set she’d noticed on one of the Hungarian’s shelves of knick-knacks. “Sure, whatever you ladies are having.”

Katalin emerged from the kitchen with a large green bottle and Maura followed holding three wine glasses. The Hungarian poured a liberal amount in each glass to Jane’s amusement.

“A toast,” she announced.

Jane and Maura immediately raised their glasses expectantly.

Katalin smiled at them both. “To old friends, new love, and to survival from adversity. Peace to those who have none of that.”

“Here, here,” Jane replied, placing a kiss to Maura’s cheek before pulling the blonde down onto her lap onto one of the chairs. Katalin fell happily into another chair and there was a brief silence as they all savored their first sip.

“Oh my,” Maura sighed. “Château-Grillet?”

“Indeed,” Katalin smirked. “Very good, Doctor Isles. My last bottle, in fact. Seemed a fitting opportunity.”

Maura hummed in agreement. “I have one I’m saving for the right occasion at home. It was a gift from my mother.”

“Shit!” Jane hastily put her glass down and fumbled for her cellphone. “Speaking of your mother, I need to call her.”

“I did send an email, Jane,” Maura commented mildly.

“No, I should call her. She was really upset, and coming back from South Africa…” Jane scooped Maura up into her arms, stood up, then placed Maura back in the chair with a kiss before excusing herself to the kitchen.

Katalin sighed. “So gallant, your detective.”

Maura smiled and watched as Jane bounced lightly on her toes, the phone pressed to one ear. “She’s a hopeless romantic, actually, but will never admit it.”

“—yes, perfectly fine,” Jane's voice drifted back to them. “Here, let me get her for you.”

Maura pushed herself up and joined Jane in the kitchen and took the phone. “Hello, mother.”

“Oh thank heavens,” Constance breathed, her voice trembling. “My dear child, I had no idea what to expect.”

Maura felt a prickle in her eyes. She was not used to hearing such emotional affection from her mother. “I’m fine, mother. All those years of swimming lessons were extremely useful, it turns out. Jane tells me you flew in from South Africa?”

“Yes, as soon as Jane called to let me know what happened. I just arrived in London. Where are ou now? Should I come to you?”

“No, mother, there’s no need for you to come to Hungary,” Maura assured her. “Actually, I’ll be coming to you. I need to go to England as I have some affects from Ian I need to give to his parents. Last I knew they were living just outside London.”

Jane had returned to the comfort of the chairs, but her head jerked when she heard Ian’s name. She looked over at Katalin; the dark-haired doctor’s face had gone somber.

“He was on the ship as well,” Katalin said quietly. “He didn’t make it.”

Jane frowned. She was confused as to why Maura’s ex (one she despised) would be in Europe, let alone in Maura’s company, since as far as she knew he was still wanted by Interpol.

“—thank you, mother, we will.” Maura ended the call and rejoined the other women in the living room.

Jane cast her a quizzical look.

Maura sighed. “It was a shock to see Ian on the ship. Katalin had been injured in the explosion and he helped treat it before we had to evacuate.” Her eyes grew unfocused as she remembered the chaos. “Katalin was holding his satchel, but he didn’t get on the lifeboat with us. It’s likely he was killed in the second explosion.”

Jane grimaced. “The more I hear about this incident, the more I don’t like it. Multiple explosions, leak lifeboats,” she gave Maura a hard look. “Felonious ex-boyfriends…”

“If it makes you feel any better, detective,” Katalin said teasingly, “I believe he was flirting with me rather than Maura.”

“Good, because if he wasn’t dead I’d have to shoot him.” She squinted at Katalin. “You were injured?”

The Hungarian patted her leg. “A little sore, but I heal fast. I didn’t damage anything important.”

Maura shook her head. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you start to limp on the way home, young lady.”

Katalin waved her wineglass at the blonde. “Feeling better already. Another couple of glasses and I’ll be ready to run a marathon.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “So, this satchel. You’re gonna take it to his folks?”

“As far as I know they still live in England, and it would be nice to see my mother.”

Jane finished her wine and resettled her girlfriend on her lap. “Well, wither thou goest. I packed light, and my passport has many blank pages.”

“Jane,” said Maura, concerned that the detective was taking so much last minute time off work. “It’s not necessary for you to escort me—“

Jane pressed a finger to Maura’s lips. “If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight until you’re safely back in Boston, you’re crazy. If you’re going to England, I’m going to England. End of story.”

Maura nodded, feeling more cherished than she ever had in her life. “I would like that.”

“Besides,” Jane teased. “I hear they’ve got really good beer over there. Ow! Again with the pinching!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [AN] Multiple types of action going on in this chapter - hopefully a little something for everyone...
> 
> :)
> 
> Also, thanks for the reviews! Love to know folks are enjoying my little tale.

The spent the rest of the day keeping Jane awake to help reset her internal clock before finally allowing her to collapse in exhastion. The following day they spent sight seeing and after a hearty dinner where the two Americans were introduced to the wonderful dangers of Pálinka — a type of local brandy — the three women finally staggered back to Katalin’s apartment. The Hungarian waved them a tired goodnight as she disappeared into her bedroom. Somewhat shyly Maura guided Jane into the guest bedroom before suddenly whirling and pressing the lanky detective against the closed door, pushing her hips firmly into Jane’s.

“I don’t think I’ve greeted you properly since you’ve arrived,” she breathed against Jane’s neck, her lips brushing along a tanned jaw.

Jane bit back a groan. “These walls seem a bit too thin for what you seem to be thinking, Maur,” she complained softly before capturing the doctor’s lips in a searing kiss. “Katalin will be pounding down the door.”

“It would probably amuse her to do so if she stays awake long enough,” Maura replied, a certain glint in her eye. She slipped her hands under Jane’s shirt before sliding it off, followed by an insistent tugging at her belt. “I don’t care.”

Jane swallowed hard. “You’re playing with fire, Doctor Isles.” She gasped as Maura’s fingertips grazed her quivering abdomen then slid along underneath the edge of her cotton hipsters.

“Is that a warning, Detective?” Maura whispered against her neck, starting to shake with desire. She finally felt a tangible a sense of relief that she was truly safe after her ordeal, wrapped in those loving arms. “Please, Jane — I need you.”

After a brief moment of indecision Jane stripped Maura of all her clothes with a growl, her own garments following. She closed her eyes at the feel of the smooth skin against her own as she pressed Maura into the mattress. There was a soft creak from the bed frame as they sank into soft sheets but they ignored it. Nothing could distract them now.

“Oh God, Maur,” Jane breathed. She could feel the heat emanating from between the doctor’s legs as she settled herself between them, almost overcome at the relief of having the blonde with her, safe and sound.

Maura whimpered and wrapped her legs around narrow hips, her hands clutching at strong shoulders as Jane deliberately pressed hard against her. Her fists clenched the sheets on either side of Maura’s head as she rocked them together, harder and faster. Their kisses were frenzied, moans muffled by eager tongues. Jane scraped her teeth along Maura’s pulse point, and the resulting guttural sounds of pleasure only heightened her desire.

“Jane — oh God — please — don’t stop…” Maura chanted in ecstasy, her eyes dark with arousal as she hooked her legs even more firmly around Jane’s waist. She pulled the detective into her almost desperately, grinding her hips upwards.

Jane redoubled her efforts, beads of sweat sliding down her face, her neck, her chest. “You feel so good,” she panted, her voice deep and raspy with lust. She shuddered as her clit slid against Maura’s over and over again, growing harder as her blood thundered through her veins, until finally Maura went rigid. The blonde’s body jerked as she spasmed, her breath sobbing through her climax. A few more frantic thrusts and Jane buried her face against Maura’s neck as a stifled scream ripped from her throat.

“Fuck,” Jane groaned as she tumbled to one side and lay next to Maura, fingers immediately lacing together. Their chests heaved as they struggled to catch their breath.

“Language, Jane,” Maura admonished breathlessly, her smile belying the scolding.

Jane raised one eyebrow. “Really, Maura?” She blew out her breath. “I’m too happy to be annoyed at you, feel lucky.”

“I feel _very_ lucky right now, in fact,” Maura purred as she rolled herself over and settled herself into Jane’s side.

“If we’re really lucky, we were quiet enough—“

_Bang! Bang!_

“Some of us are trying to sleep!” came Katalin’s amused voice from the next room.

They burst out laughing.

 

* * *

 

“What do you call these things again?” Jane asked around a mouthful of delectable baked goodness. “They are _amazing._ ”

“Kürtőskalács,” replied Katalin with a laugh. She had slipped out to her local bakery earlier that morning while Jane and Maura still slept, returning back to her apartment with a box of freshly cooked and steaming hot pastry. “Also known as a Hungarian chimney cake. I promised Maura she should have some during her stay. Would you like another?”

“Yeah, pass me another courtly-shellacking thingy.”

Maura swatted Jane on the shoulder as the Italian grinned mischievously at her from where she sat on the floor against Maura’s legs. She turned to her friend. “Jane has a habit of deliberately mispronouncing things just to annoy me.”

“And yet, you always give me a great response,” Jane retorted as she stuffed the last of her chimney cake into her mouth. “You said they cook these things on a spit?”

Katalin licked sugar off her fingers before responding. “Yes, directly over a heat source, to give it that lovely crispiness. It is perfection.”

Maura drank more of her coffee. “And yet I recall you proclaiming your allegiance to Viennese apfelstrudel not that long ago.” Her expression was amused.

“A mere moment of weakness,” her friend protested. “Kind of like you two had last night.” She smirked as both Jane and Maura blushed.

“Mm-hmm.” Maura gritted her teeth to hold her expression steady, then looked at her watch. “And on _that_ note, we need to get to the airport.”

Katalin sighed. “Too soon I lose you,” she pouted as she rose from her chair. “Perhaps I’ll join you in England for a few days, if you’ll be staying for a bit?”

Maura accepted Jane’s hand and stood up, then pulled her friend into a hug. “That would be lovely. We’ll probably be there a week or so. I still have to try and track down Ian’s family, and who knows when I’ll actually have an opportunity to see my mother in person again after this.”

“I’ll call you,” Katalin promised. “I suspect the three of us could get into some fine trouble in London.”

Jane grinned and held out a hand. “I look forward to it. You can tell me stories of Maura’s impetuous youth.”

Maura glared at the two of them. “I assure you there are no such stories.”

Jane snorted. “Right, just like you never rode a horse naked in protest of university budget cuts.”

Katalin burst out laughing. “Here Jane, give me your phone. Let’s make sure you and I can communicate so that she doesn’t try to keep us apart.”

Jane held a sputtering Maura off with one arm as Katalin hurriedly added her cell number to Jane’s contact list, then texted herself to get Jane’s number “I like the way you think, Doctor Farkas.”

 

* * *

 

“Maura! Jane!”

Maura turned and saw her Constance Isles waving at them from the curb. Behind her a sleek black Jaguar waited, trunk open. The driver, a older man with bright blue eyes and wearing a gray suit, stood patiently nearby but stepped forward as he saw Maura. He slung Jane’s little carryon over one shoulder and deftly grabbed both handles of Maura’s luggage as Constance engulfed Maura in a tight embrace.

“Oh my darling, I was so scared,” Constance said brokenly, her practiced need to keep a tight grip on her emotions warring with her abject relief. After a moment, she stepped, dabbing quickly at her eyes with a handkerchief before she turned to Jane and reaching out a trembling hand. “Thank you, Detective. I felt better knowing you were on your way.”

Jane squeezed it, hoping to offer some comfort. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Isles. And please, call me Jane.”

“Constance,” the older blonde replied after a moment. “It seems hardly necessary to remain so formal.” She stepped, still recovering her composure.

The driver slammed the trunk shut and opened the car doors for the waiting women. “Welcome back to England, Miss Maura,” said, his voice affectionate. “It’s been too long.”

“Thank you, Nigel,” she replied warmly. “Lovely to see you as well. Please meet my girlfriend, Detective Jane Rizzoli.”

He blinked, then quickly recovered. “Hallo, Detective,” he said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m sure.”

“Hi!” Jane shook his hand even as she raised an eyebrow at Maura’s use of the designation. The doctor blushed slightly but her chin was raised with pride. Jane grinned in response. “You’ve known Maura long?”

“Almost all her life,” he said proudly. “She was always a pip of a girl. Marched to her own drum, always.” He cocked an eyebrow at the blonde doctor with amusement. “Seems like she still is.”

“I’ll say,” Jane agreed.

Nigel guided them into the car, Jane taking the front seat next to him while the two Isles women sat together in the back. Jane smiled as she heard them speaking quietly to each other as Nigel wove his way through traffic to the Isles residence in Kensington.

“Have you ever been to London before, Jane?” Nigel asked after a while, noticing Jane’s fascination with the passing scenery.

“Nope, always wanted to come though.” She smirked. “There seems to be a lot of pubs.”

Nigel chuckled. “That there is. I have no doubt Maura will take you to her favorite one.”

“Can’t wait.” She paused as a huge park came into a view, a magnificent building set well into the grounds. “Wow, what’s that place?”

“That is Kensington palace, a royal residence,” intoned Nigel. “His Grace the Duke of Cambridge moved in with his family not long ago. I see them now and again. Fine lad, lovely family.”

Jane had no idea who the Duke of Cambridge might be but nodded agreeably. Nigel turned a corner and pulled up in front of an elegant row house, red brick, white plaster, and black iron the predominate features. Carefully clipped shrubs in large pots lined the front patios.

Once inside, Nigel dropped off the bags in the foyer and waved at an older dark-skinned woman who emerged from a nearby doorway.

“Ni vizuri kuwaona, Maura!” she exclaimed, clasping Maura’s hand between both of hers before engulfing the doctor in an embrace. “I have missed you! We were so scared for you. I insisted on coming with Bibi to make sure she eats.”

“Shikamoo, Azima,” said Maura fondly. “I have missed you as well.” She gestured at Jane. “Azima, this is my friend Jane.” She slid her arm through Jane’s and leaned against the taller woman happily. “She’ll be staying with us. Jane, this is Azima. She is from Tanzania — her husband was an assistant to my father for years and Azima just sort of adopted us.”

“I don’t know what we would do without her,” commented Constance wryly. “Arthur certainly would have starved by now.”

“He often forgets to eat,” sniffed Azima. “I make sure he stays fat like he should be.”

Jane choked back a snort and she saw Nigel roll his eyes.

“Mrs. Isles, I’ll just take the car back shall I?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Nigel.”

He nodded and smiled then with a wink at Jane and Maura, he quietly left.

Azima shooed all three women towards the kitchen. “Your room is prepared, Maura. I will take your bags up, but first come eat!”

Jane followed the other women down the corridor into a dining area over looking a beautiful garden. Art covered the walls, mostly paintings, but also also some photography. Small columns were everywhere, holding some piece of sculpture (though in one case, Jane wasn’t sure if it was actual art piece or forgotten cleaning supplies).

The African woman busied herself with trays of food as Constance invited them to sit.

“Is Azima’s husband with your father now?” Jane asked quietly.

Constance shook her head, sorrow crossing her face. “Tumo passed away suddenly some years ago from a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Jane looked at the woman still bustling in the kitchen. “She has no other family?”

“There was a daughter who passed away quite young due to illness. Azima had a difficult pregnancy and was unable to have other children so she was always doting on Maura.” Constance smiled at the memories. “Azima’s extended family is quite large, many aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins. However she wanted to continuing to work for us when Tumo died. I think it’s a way for her to honor her husband’s memory. We were of course glad to have her.”

“It was very kind of her to come,” murmured Maura. “I know she hates the weather here. Too cold for her blood.”

“She usually stays with Arthur while he’s in Africa,” Constance explained to Jane as an aside. “But she didn’t want me to travel alone when she heard the news.”

“Sounds like my Ma,” Jane said fondly. “Wants to be there to feed you when there’s a crisis.”

Maura chuckled. “Angela did remind me a little of Azima as I got to know her.”

A pained look crossed Constance’s face and she took a deep breath. “Azima was often a better mother to you than I was,” she admitted, looking down at the table. “But I’d like to think there’s still room for improvement?” Her eyes were bright and her lip trembled.

Maura immediately leaned over and embraced her mother. “Of course, mother,” she replied. “Jane tells me you flew from Johannesburg as soon as you heard I might be in trouble. That means a lot to me.”

Constance sniffed again, then carefully schooled her expression to that of polite affection before excusing herself to ‘freshen up.’ Jane hid her smile behind a cough.

“Hey Maur,” she said softly . “I sense your Ma is a little too repressed for her own good. I think we need to loosen your mother up a bit.”

Maura raised an eyebrow at Jane. “Oh? How do you propose to do that?”

Jane winked at her. “I’m gonna get her drunk.”

“Jane!”

Azim laid steaming platters of fresh bread, grilled meats, and cooked greens. “Proper food for you Maura. You won’t get this food in America!”

“I have no idea what this is, but it smells amazing,” Jane declared, eagerly helping herself.

“Chapati,” Maura pointed at the bread, then the meat. “Nyama choma.” Finally she touched the edge of the dish holding steaming greens. “Mchicha.” She smiled at the beaming woman still standing nearby. “These are traditional foods of Azima’s people in Tanzania, and she is an amazing cook.”

“You remember,” Azima beamed. “This is the best food for your spirit, so eat!” She pointed sternly at Jane. “You are too skinny. I will fatten you up!”

Constance returned at that moment, smiling at the look on Jane’s face. “I suspect that reminds of your mother even more, Detective.”

Jane shook her head ruefully. “I can’t—“ Her cell phone rang. She flinched in surprise, then fumbled in her pocket for it as she stood up and stepped into the hallway. “Excuse me, ladies. Rizzoli.”

The voice on the line was male and heavily accented. “This is Jane Rizzoli, yes?”

“Detective Jane Rizzoli, yes.”

“My name is Lientenant Károly Lovász. I’m an investigator with the Rendőrség here in Bucharest.”

Jane blinked. “How—”

“You are acquainted with Doctor Katalin Farkas?”

“I met her a couple of days ago, yeah.” Jane waved at Maura who immediately joined her. She held the phone out so Maura could listen as well. “She works with you guys right? Is there a problem?”

“A neighbor reported shouting and a gunshot. When we arrived her apartment showed signs of struggle. We found her phone in the hallway with you as the last contact.”

Maura’s hand went to her mouth.

“Unfortunately we fear that Doctor Farkas has been abducted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Swahili translations:
> 
> "Ni vizuri kuwaona, Maura" -- "It is good to see you, Maura"
> 
> "Shikamoo, Azima" -- "Hello (to respected older person)"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, my lovies. A slight case of writer's block turned major when work exploded and I didn't have time to breathe for weeks. But here we are now - hope you enjoy!

Azima set a tray down near Jane, her face concerned as she watched Maura pace across the sitting room, Jane’s phone pressed to her ear.  

“She needs to eat,” the cook said softly. “My poor girl, such a worry.”

Jane nodded distractedly, her eyes fixed on the blonde medical examiner. “I’ll make sure she does.”

The Tanzanian woman nods in thanks before returning to the kitchen. 

Maura’s face was drawn with worry as she stalked between the secretary’s desk tucked into one corner of the room and the window looking out over the lush green of Kensington Gardens.  She paused her laps in front of the secretary, her hand braced against the smooth wooden surface.

“ _Köszönöm_ ,” she said softly before dropping her arm, the phone held loosely in her hand.  Finally she turned and joined jane on the couch, placing the phone on the coffee table in front of her. “I have never found myself missing our colleagues at the Boston Police Department more than right now,” she said, a flash of frustration crossing her face.

Jane pressed a fork into Maura’s hand and nudged the plate closer to her. “Here, please eat or Azima is going to hurt me.  No useful info from Love-ass?”

Maura kicked her under the table, unable to hold back her smile. “Really, Jane.  His name is _Lovász_.  It is very common in Hungary.”  Her smile fades. “And no, they have very little information to share and even less they’re willing to share about what’s going to happen next.”

Jane nudged the plate again, they sighed in relief when Maura focused on her meal for a few minutes.  Then she paused, a forkful of greens held halfway between plate and mouth.  After a moment her eyes narrowed and she reached forward for Jane’s phone again.  “I know who can help.” 

Jane watched with eyebrow raised as Maura brought up her email, scrolling quickly.  Finally she made a small noise of triumph and raised the phone to her ear once more.  

“Mugsie, it’s Maura.  I’m in town for a few days and I am desperate for your mum’s spotted dick.  I suspect I’ll end up at Sherlock’s this evening, in case you’d like to join me.  Looking forward to seeing you!”

Jane’s jaw dropped as she stared at her girlfriend. “What was that all about?”

“Another old friend.  She’s a data analyst for the British Secret Intelligence Service, and she owes me a favor.” Maura resumed eating with more enthusiasm.

Jane waved her hand as if to brush away that comment. “No!  I meant, what the hell is a spotted dick?”

Constance chuckled as she rejoined them, clearly having overheard Jane’s remark. “It’s a desert, Detective, and I suspect you’d enjoy it immensely should you get past it’s most unfortunate name.” The older woman settled herself into a nearby wingback chair. “I have asked Nigel to retrieve the Range Rover instead of the Jaguar.  I assumed you’d prefer a slightly lower profile and also that you’ll be going out soon.”

Maura smiled and nodded. “Thank you mother, that was very kind of you.”

Jane saw Azima peering at them through the doorway and at the stern look on her face hurriedly gestured for the blonde to continue eating.  The cook nodded in satisfaction and disappeared.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room.  Azimi had cleared the dishes away and brought a cup of coffee to Jane at Constance’s recommendation.

“Maura tells me you are a great believer in coffee,” she said. “I believe you’ll find Azima’s blend particularly delicious.”

Maura watched with amusement as Jane moaned at the rich taste.

“Oh, my God,” she finally managed. “This is incredible.”

“My family grows the beans, and my uncle roasts them,” Azima said proudly. “No better coffee than this.”

Jane licked her lips, her eyes still closed. “Can you adopt me?”

The Tanzanian laughed loudly, clapping her hands. “You belong to Maura, so you are my family now.  I take care of you!”

Jane quirked an eyebrow at the suddenly blushing doctor. “I’m yours, eh?”

Maura’s smile was breathtaking and she leaned against Jane, her head on Jane’s shoulder.  “Very much so. As I am yours.” She laced her fingers together and before she could stop herself, Jane raised their hands and pressed a soft kiss across Maura’s knuckles before remembering they weren’t alone. She glanced nervously at Constance.

The older woman wore a peaceful expression, her eyes warm with affection.  As she met Jane’s gaze she nodded with just a hint of a smile on her lips.  At this clear sign of approval Jane allowed herself to relax into her girlfriend’s touch.

The quiet was broken by booming footsteps in the hallway.

“I’ve brought the car around, Miss Maura,” Nigel announced, leaning through the doorway. 

“Excellent,” she exclaimed, rising to her feet and pulling Jane up beside her. “Let’s go, Jane.”

“Where are we going again?” Jane nodded thanks to Azima who handed them their coats. “Do you really have a friend named Sherlock?”

Maura glanced over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “My dear Detective, the game’s afoot!”

“Originally established as the Northumberland Hotel in the nineteenth century, it was transformed into the Sherlock Holmes pub in the mid fifties by Holmes enthusiasts.” Maura smiled as Jane craned her neck to see the sights of central London “I spent many a cold night with a cup of tea or a glass of wine and mystery novel, whiling away the hours.”

Jane grinned. “You were already destined for a life in law enforcement.”

“Perhaps,” the doctor agreed. “I will admit I was more partial to Hercule Poirot then Sherlock Holmes, however. Holmes’ cocaine addiction was a bit discomfiting for me.”

“Here we are, ladies,” announced Nigel cheerfully, pulling the big car to a stop in front of a beautifully done restaurant, black paint contrasting with gold script spelling out _Sherlock Holmes Pub and Restaurant._ Etched glass adorning nearly every window, and Jane chuckled seeing one of the etchings was a bust of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

“They take their fandom seriously here,” Jane commented as she held the door for Maura.

Maura rolled her eyes. “Be glad it’s not a Saturday night. There used to be arguments boring on violence on topics ranging from the true nature of Sherlock’s relationship with Irene Adler and how Moriarty could have also survived the fall at Reichenbach Falls.” 

Inside there was a lively chatter of conversation, but not so loud as to make hearing difficult. Maura caught the eye of the bartender, and gestured towards a small plaque behind the bar. The man glanced behind him then smiled who pointed them towards a small booth along the back wall, somewhat isolated from the rest of the patrons. Jane paused as she noticed a small card at the end of the table that read “Reserved.”

“Don’t worry,” Maura assured her as she her coat on a polished brass hook. “We’re allowed.”

A waiter hurried over with menus, impeccably dressed in wool vest with pocket watch, and his eyes widened when he saw Maura.

“Doctor Isles!” he exclaimed. “It’s been too long.”

“Hello William,” she smiled.

He beamed. “Your usual, Doctor?”

“Yes, thank you. Please meet my girlfriend, Detective Jane Rizzoli. She will have…” she paused, considering Jane for a moment with a tilt of her head. “She’ll have a Fuller’s, I think.”

“A real detective at the Holmes,” he laughed with a wink at Jane, who ducked her head sheepishly in response. “It’s always honor to host such as yourself. Drinks right up, Doctor.”

Jane perused the menu, sighing in relief when she saw a plethora of food she’d be happy to eat. Then she glanced at Maura, catching the doctor watching her with a soft expression. “I like the sound of that.”

“A Fuller’s? It’s a delightful porter brewed locally—“

Jane shook her head. “No, you calling me your girlfriend.”

Maura blushed then raised her chin with a determined look on her face. “I will never be anything but proud to call you that.”

Jane swallowed hard then reached out and gripped the smaller woman’s hand tightly. “I’ll never be anything but proud hearing it.” Then she wiped her eyes, hurriedly. It wouldn’t do to blubber in public.

To her relief Maura pretended not to notice, merely rubbed her thumb across Jane’s knuckles, her own eyes suspiciously glittery.

After a moment Jane cleared her throat. “So, why is it okay we’re sitting at what is clearly a reserved table?”

Maura smirked. “This table is reserved for winners of the Holmes challenge. A patron must down three pints of ale with ten minutes, then answer a one hundred question quiz correctly. So far there have been four of us and I believe two of them are sadly deceased, so the table is usually available.”

“I’ll never be surprised with you winning something like that, but you chugging beer that quickly is something I’d love to see.”

Maura shook her head with a rueful expression. “Not likely, Detective.” 

William returned with their drinks, a red wine for Maura and a glass of something dark brown, nearly black, for Jane. The detective took a cautious sip then lit up at the taste. “Oh man, this is amazing,” she moaned, her fingers gripping Maura’s even more tightly.

“Haven’t heard a sound like that since the last lad I took home for the night,” a dry voice with a clipped English accent commented from her elbow. “Glad to see a woman enjoy her pint with such enthusiasm.”

Jane choked before managing to glance upwards and meet the blue eyed gaze of a woman looking at her with amusement.

“I suspect I can guess who you are, Detective Rizzoli?” the woman continued as she appraised the brunette. “Maura, you lucky girl.”

“Mugsie,” Maura murmured reproachfully as she stood to exchange air kisses with the newcomer, but her lips quirked upwards. “Jane, this is a dear friend, Lady Margaret Elizabeth Anne Collingsworth, Baronness of Montfort.”

“Oh dear God, Maura,” the woman groaned, sinking down into the booth across from the chuckling doctor. “That was not nice.”

“So, you’re not all of that?” Jane waved her glass vaguely around.

“First of all, call me Mugsie if you wish me to stay cordial. Secondly, it’s sadly all of that and more, to my completely dismay.” She waved nonchalantly at the bartender who seemed to know her well as he immediately turned and started mixing some sort of cocktail. “The name was a given due to family politics, but the title was destined to go to my cousin Rupert and I was supposed to be left to my career with only the occasionally showing for the family at some charity gala once or twice a year. Then the silly twit died accidentally trying to climb out of a fifth story window.”

Jane raised one eyebrow. “And why was he doing that?”

Mugsie shook her head. “Getting away from the husband of the woman he was shagging. Needless to say, climbing was never one of his strong suits. The scandal was hushed up and I was next in line for inheritance. Then my uncle passed away a few years later, leaving me with the title and the estates and a headache the size of Suffolk. Thank you, William,” she said to the waiter as he placed a chilled cocktail glass on the table in front of her. 

“To your good health, Lady C,” he said with a flourish then beat a hasty retreat to her outraged splutter.

Maura chuckled. “He’ll never call you anything else, Mugsie,” she advised. “Lady C is as good as you’re going to get.”

“I suppose,” Mugsie took a long sip then sat back with a sigh. “They do make the best martinis here.” She looked hard at Maura. “So, the spotted dick alarm hasn’t been used since we were nineteen so of course I had to skip out on work, not to mention the fact it’s been right _ages_ since I’ve seen you.”

Jane choked. “So it’s not a dessert?”

“Oh, my mum’s spotted dick will make you moan louder than your pint there,” Mugsie assured her with a slight smirk, “but it’s also a code for helping one’s friend out of a tight spot.”

Maura leaned forward. “Do you remember Katalin Farkas?”

“Do I?” Mugsie exclaimed. “Fabulous woman, _unbelievable_ tolerance for alcohol. Haven’t talked to her in years, sadly. Keep meaning to drop a note.”

“She’s been kidnapped. It happened right after Jane and I saw her in Bucharest and the Hungarian police have been less than helpful.”

The Baroness sat back and took another long swallow. “The Rendőrség is suspected of a great deal of corruption these days. Ties to sympathizers of the old Soviet regime that are now heavily involved in organized crime — arms, oil, money laundering, human trafficking — their money buys a lot of allies.” She leaned forward, her expression now devoid of her previous good humor and instead looked deadly serious. “Tell me all you know.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long delay, life is happening in ways that don't allow for a lot of free writing time. However, fear not, I swear this work will be finished, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment.
> 
> :)

“Shut the front door!” Frost exclaimed in a high pitched squeal that distorted painfully through the phone’s speaker. “You actually _met_ Mugsie Collingsworth? Mug-C? The Queen of the Keyboard?”

Jane winced as she held her phone away from her ear, then glared at it before gingerly bringing it back. “Okay, first of all, thanks for the hearing loss, you jerk. Secondly, she’s a friend of Maura’s, what’s the big deal?”

“She’s probably the scariest spook hacker their is! She’s like the love child of Alan Turning, Grace Hopper, and Albert Einstein,” her partner gushed.

“Frost.”

“— solved this compute problem everybody said was impossible—“

“Frost.”

“—hacked some Eastern European security mainframes on a dare when she was still in high school—“

“FROST!”

He finally shut up.

“Frost? That sound you hear is my eyes rolling around in my head,” she deadpanned. “I’m glad you’re so excited, even if I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll get her autograph or something, make her sign it ‘Love Mugsie.’ But listen,” she continued, watching Nigel’s sure hands guiding the Range Rover through the narrow streets of London. “You cordial with your ex girlfriend who’s at Homeland?”

“Yeah, we still talk every once in a while.”

“Do me a favor and ping her, okay?” Jane lowered her voice, hoping Maura was fully engrossed in her ongoing reunion with her friend. “See if she can find out if there’s anything on the wind about ex-Soviet organized crime, the Hungarian police department, and while you’re at it, our old friend Ian Faulkner.”

Jane hears a groan. “Tell me you are _not_ trying to get me to call in that kind of favor just to get dirt on Maura’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Jesus, Frost, of course not,” Jane ground out. _Mostly true._ “He was on the same boat with Maura and her friend who was kidnapped and then he conveniently disappeared, so color me suspicious.

”Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Frost muttered. The sound of rapid typing clattered over the phone. “Okay, pinged her to see if she’s available. Will call you back, okay?”

“Thanks, partner,” she replied warmly. “Put it on my tab.”

He scoffed. “You’re going to have to buy me the Sam Adams brewery when I finally cash in all the beers you owe me.”

“Good _bye_ , Frost.”

 

Mugsie was strangely pensive during the ride from the pub, apparently still mulling over the story they had laid out. Maura sent the occasional concerned glance her way but otherwise kept herself occupied by giving Jane a running commentary on the history of the various landmarks they passed.

Jane nodded in all the right places and made a mental note that they needed to visit the torture chamber at the Tower of London before the returned to Boston. She couldn’t imagine a better place to pick up gifts for her brothers and partners.

“Just here, Nigel,” Mugsie called from the rear seat. They pulled up in front of an impressively imposing building, armed guards visible at a variety of strategic points. Black suits seemed to be the norm going in and out of the main entrance, but here and there a flash of color revealed a member of the armed forces. A cluster of security personnel glanced over at the Range Rover as Nigel held the door for Maura. One peeled himself off and approached the car, his gaze lingering far too long on Maura’s legs for Jane’s comfort, and when he glanced over at her a look of surprise flashed across his face at the lanky brunette’s threatening expression. He tore his gaze away and was visibly relieved to see Mugsie emerge from the car as well.

“They’re with me, Corporal,” she said, waving at Jane and Maura.

He eyed Jane again with some suspicion, but merely nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”

Their footsteps echoed loudly in the marble entranceway, the Americans noting the deference their companion seemed to inspire as she strode down a long corridor to another guard desk. The periodic potted plant was all that broke up the steel, glass, and concrete interior, and the glint of security camera lenses was everywhere. Mugsie paused and pressed her palm against a glowing touch pad as she stated, “Collingsworth, Margaret. Three six alpha zeta one one epsilon.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jane and Maura. “I don’t suppose you lot have any official identification with you? Should have asked before.”

Maura pulled Jane’s badge and her ID as Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth from her purse and handed them to the waiting security guard.

“How did you get my badge?” Jane asked under her breath. “It was buried in my suitcase.”

Maura smirked. “Jane, how long have we been friends? You would never travel without your badge. It took me ten seconds to find it while you were in the shower.”

“Please alert Sir Edward that I am in bringing guests in a potentially official capacity to the briefing room,” Mugsie asked.

His expression was somewhat sardonic as he returned Jane and Maura’s credentials. “‘Potentially official capacity’, Mugsie? If I recall correctly the last time you tried that description it involved a male stripper, champagne and a lot of bananas.” He aimed one raised eyebrow at her, as if daring her to explain.

Mugsie cleared her throat. “I would suggest that story is somewhat exaggerated.”

He shook his head, his lips curling slightly, then pressed a button to open the large steel doors beyond the desk. “If I get reassigned to traffic control I will personally ensure you never go home with less than ten tickets a day.”

She ignored this and twirled around. “Come, darlings,” she said extravagantly. “Step into my office.”

Beyond the doors dozens of workstations were scattered throughout a large, dimly lit room, faces alight from the glow of their monitors. Large mugs of coffee and tea as well as cartons of energy drinks were scattered on nearly every desk. A small cluster of people were huddled around a central desk while peering up at a huge screen at the far side of the room. Jane blinked at the incomprehensible numbers flashing by, green text against a black background. An occasional flash of red or yellow would flash briefly before disappearing.

“Mugsie, about to win that bet,” shouted a young man when he spotted the three women. “That bottle of Glenmorangie is as good as mine.”

She paused, watching the screen. A series of blue characters suddenly scrolled before the screen went blank to the loud groans of the onlookers. A bright red ‘X’ flared into existence before also fading away, and at the desk where the crestfallen man stood, all of the hardware blanked out. With an airy laugh, Mugsie waved Jane and Maura along.

“Silly bugger,” she commented, amused. She held a door open and followed them into a large room. A long pale table ran the length of the room, and the walls were adorned with screens. “He’s been trying to win that bet for months, but it will never happen.”

Jane plopped herself down into what turned out to be a fantastically comfortably chair. “What’s the bet?”

“Trying to defeat a security system I have in place for testing new technology. He has a year to defeat it. If he does, there’s a bottle of scotch in my cellar worth more than his car that is his to claim.”

“And if he loses?” Maura asked as she sat down next to Jane.

Mugsie smirked. “He will be held back a year from the promotion schedule and he’ll have to do a naked lap around Buckingham Palace during a changing of the guard.”

Jane blinked, then guffawed loudly. “Oh you’re a broad after my own heart,” she chortled, then she cocked her head. “Losing out on a promotion seems harsh though.”

“Perhaps, as I’m fairly confident that he won’t succeed and he’ll have to pay the price for his brash challenge.” Mugsie shook her head.

Maura frowned. “So you’re showing him his place, Margaret?”

Jane’s looked hard at Maura, seeing the serious expression on her face. Mugsie’s expression was became very serious, and she held Maura’s gaze easily. “Of course not, Maura. I’m showing him the error of desiring fame more than success. If he were truly serious about succeeding here, he would have done as the others do, quietly making his attempts to test things and not broadcasting his arrogance for all to see.” Mugsie sighed. “He is brilliant, I will give him that - it’s why he’s not been booted. But he lacks the maturity he should have for what we do here. He has a Hollywood vision about the work and the desire for glory that outweighs all else for him.”

Maura nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “Forgive me. I should have known.” She smiled. “For all your grumbling and desire to seem rebellious, you have always shown a high amount of integrity, Lady Collingsworth.”

For once Mugsie didn’t complain at the honorific. “There is no ultimate victory in the war in cyberspace, no ticker tape parade, no medals,” she sighed. “Only a series of endless battles, each more frustrating than the last.” Then she winked, breaking the somber mood. “And for fools such as myself, an enjoyable intellectual challenge at least.”

The door opened again and admitted a tall, lean man in an impeccably tailored suit and polished Oxfords. He reminded Jane a little of Basil Rathbone, whose depiction of Sherlock Holmes in old black and white movies had enthralled her and her brothers during many rainy afternoons of their childhood.

“Sir Edward,” Mugsie rose to her feet. “Please allow me to introduce Doctor Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and Detective Jane Rizzoli, Homicide Detective at the Boston Police Department.”

He raised one elegant brow as he took in the newcomers. “Indeed. And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit, Margaret?”

“Well, sir, they may have information relevant to one of the cases I’ve been working on.”

“I see.” He sat down at the head chair and steepled his fingers together as he gazed at her, waiting. “I hope it’s not your current conspiracy theory as to the rise of the alleged eastern crime syndicates.”

Jane noted a telltale tension in Mugsie’s jaw, but the Englishwoman’s voice otherwise betrayed no sign. “Merely continuing to monitor increasingly suspicious activities on that front, sir. Maura is in fact an old school chum, but she was a passenger on that riverboat in Hungary and ran into someone who we’ve currently got flagged.”

Maura sat up a little straighter, a surprised look on her face. Mugsie glanced at her apologetically.

“Ian Faulkner, ostensibly a physician with _Médecins Sans Frontières_ , originally placed on the Interpol watch list due to his less the legal acquisitions of humanitarian materials, in particular narcotics.”

Maura smiled faintly and shook her head. Jane rolled her eyes.

Mugsie continued, “However he was escalated to a top tier person of interest when it was discovered he was operating under an alias and MSF claimed to not have been in contact with him for several years. Last known sighting of him before last week was in Calais eighteen months ago. Interpol has a standing alert request on him.”

“That’s impossible!” Maura burst out. “Ian?”

Mugsie shook her head. “I’m sorry Maura, I hadn’t realized he was the Ian of whom you had spoken of until tonight.”

“What’s his real name?” Jane asked with a growl. She hadn’t liked him before, but now anger burned at her at the sight of Maura’s anguished face. “I knew I should have arrested him when I had the chance.” She winced as she saw Maura frown, but the blonde shook her head and gripped Jane’s hand.

“Neither of us knew, Jane,” she murmured.

“We haven’t been able to determine his actual name as yet, nor any additional aliases. He seems to have been very adept at maintaining this particular cover.” Mugsie turned to Sir Edward. “As you know, he’s supposed to be an Australian national, but I’m still waiting on the Aussies to get back to me with whatever they can dig up on their end.” She paused and took a breath. “Sir, I know it’s a little irregular, but this could be a good chance at getting a fresh set of intel on this man, if you would approve a temporary reciprocity in their capacity as American law enforcement. They could be helpful greasing the wheels with the Yanks.”

Sir Edward huffed softly and drummed his fingers on the polished table.

“I’ve already asked my partner to call a contact at Homeland Security,” Jane added helpfully. “I’ve honestly never been a fan of Faulkner, and the fact he was on the boat raised some flags for me. I’m expecting a call back soon. We weren’t expecting to have any help, but we definitely have some questions we’d love to get answered.”

“There’s also the satchel,” Maura added.

Sir Edward looked up sharply at this. “Satchel?”

“Yes,” she responded. “My companion was injured in the initial blast, and she held his satchel while he patched her leg. He was supposed to rejoin us after we reached the lifeboats but we never saw him again after the second explosion.”

“That companion is now missing,” said Jane darkly. “If it’s related to her having seen Ian or having his satchel, they’ll figure out quickly she doesn’t have it.”

Sir Edward leaned forward, his face intent. “Where is the satchel now?”

Jane placed her hand on Maura’s and squeezed, forestalling any response by the doctor. “We brought it with us to take to Ian’s parents.”

“You haven’t seen the contents?”

“Nope, just bringing his parents his affects.” Jane leaned back, gazing steadily at Sir Edward. “Until a few minutes ago, it was merely a courtesy to his family.”

“We’ll need to see it, of course,” he stood and smoothed the front of his jacket, then looked at Mugsie. “Reciprocity is granted, though we’ll need the usual assurances and what not from the American Embassy.”

“Of course, sir.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then said. “Smythe and Lennox. They’ve been recuperating from their last mission but are cleared for duty again.”

“Understood, sir,” said Mugsie.

“It was a pleasure, ladies,” he gave a brief nod, then left.

Maura noticed Jane staring at the door thoughtfully. “Jane?”

“Huh?” The detective whipped her head around. “Sorry, was just thinking.” She waved her hand dismissively. “So, what now?”

“Well, I for one am exhausted,” Maura declared, rising to her feet. “Let’s plan on meeting up tomorrow?”

Mugsie nodded. “I’ll need to round up my assigned field agents. They’re good men,” she said as an aside. “I’ve worked with them before.” She held open the door to escort them back to the building’s entrance. “I’ll phone you, shall I? The number you gave me earlier?”

“My phone,” Jane replied, holding it up with a wave as they made their way back down the long corridor, Mugsie tossing a wave at the security guard as they passed. “Maura needs a new one.”

“The old newsstand near your parents sells cheap ones with prepaid minutes,” Mugsie advised, her voice dropping slightly. “Were I you I might obtain several of them, just in case.”

“Burner phones in jolly old England?” Jane joked. “Who woulda thought?”

Mugsie shook her head. “You probably know better than anyone, Detective Rizzoli, that there are all sorts everywhere.”

They pushed through the main entrance into the chilly evening air.

“Stay sharp, my friends,” said Mugsie seriously. “This could be Sweet Fanny Adams or a right tempest in a teapot, and I fear the latter.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but taking a wild shot in the dark, sounds like your gut says something smells,” Jane guessed, her eyes scanning their surroundings as they waited for Nigel to come round with the Range Rover.

Maura sputtered in exasperation. “Jane! Your insistence at relying on your intestines continues to confound me, and there are certainly no olfactory cells anywhere in one’s abdomen—”

Mugsie burst out laughing, clutching her sides in her glee. Eventually she caught her breath, and gasped out, “Dear God, I’ve missed you, Isles.”

“Mutual, Collingsworth,” Maura replied, smiling. “We’ll be waiting for your call.”

Jane sank back against the soft leather seats as Nigel drove them back to Kensington and the Isles residence and smiled as she felt Maura’s cool fingers slide in between hers. “Mugsie seems alright, but that Sir Edward guy makes me itch. Something about him seems wrong.”

Maura pursed her lips. “He is rather patrician in his approach, but he is a senior member of the British Intelligence Service. One assumes he’s been carefully vetted.”

“Yeah,“ Jane muttered, rubbing Maura’s knuckles with her thumb. “You’re probably right.”


	9. Chapter 9

The kitchen of the Isles residence was a showcase of polished wood, copper, and steel, gleaming in the early morning light. Jane looked around nervously, feeling as if she was intruding before Azima appeared at her elbow and settled her onto a nearby stool.

“I have coffee for you, Detective Jane,” she announced. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

Jane started to object, but stilled at a chuckle from Nigel. The driver perched easily on his own stool near the sink, holding his own cup daintily in one hand.

“Best not to argue with her,” he advised, his head tilted towards the woman now busily assembling her special brew. His tone was wry and clearly had the weight of long experience.

Jane sighed and nodded, then a thought occurred to her and she turned more fully to the Englishman.

“Hey Nigel, I don’t suppose you run errands for the Isles.” 

“Of course.” 

She paused and accepted a steaming mug from the housekeeper and remembered Maura’s advice from the night before. “ _Asante_. Is that right?”

Azima beamed and patted Jane on the shoulder fondly. “You are most welcome! Now I must see to the linens.”

Jane took a moment to sip her coffee as the woman bustled away, pondering her next question.

“So,” she said finally, looking over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone. “I kind of need a favor, and a bit of discretion.”

Blue eyes twinkled at her, alight with curiosity. He set his cup down and leaned forward, his lips curled up slightly. “Oh, do tell, Detective.”

  

Maura stretched as she awoke, the morning sun filling the room with a golden glow. She blinked as she realized she was alone. The sheets beside her were cool; Jane had been gone for a while. She smiled as she suspected hunger had driven her detective in search of sustenance, and made her way to the en suite to prepare for her day.

Thirty minutes later she arrived in the dining room and greeted her mother, already seated for breakfast

“Jane sleeping in this morning, darling?” Constance asked, lowering her newspaper.

Maura shook her head and turned towards the door to the kitchen as Azima appeared with a laden tray.

“Detective Jane went for a walk, Bibi,” Azima announced as she prepared plates for the two women. “She wanted some fresh air before breakfast.”

There was a clatter from the opposite doorway “I did, though it was colder than I expected,” said Jane from the opposite doorway. Her nose and cheeks were ruddy from the crisp air, but she looked invigorated. “Oh, that smells wonderful. You got enough food for a big Italian stomach?” she teased.

“You sit!” Azima commanded. “You will need a nap when I am done with you.”

Jane chuckled and sank into the chair next to Maura. “Good morning, Constance,” she said cheerfully, then leaned over to place a lingering kiss against the blonde’s cheek. “Hey there.”

“Good morning,” Maura exhaled huskily at the sensation of hot breath along her neck. Then she cleared her throat. “Did you have a nice walk?”

“I did, thanks. It’s real nice around here.” To Jane’s amusement, Maura immediately straightened, her eyes alight with the familiar expression that she was about to share her knowledge. “Lay it on me, Doc. I know you can’t help yourself.”

Maura’s eyes narrowed slightly, then she huffed. “Well, this area was a recognized estate as far back as the eleventh century A.D., and is recorded in the Domesday Book under the Latin _Chenesitone._ It was bequeathed to a trusted advisor of William the Conqueror. _”_

“The Conqueror? Named himself, did he?” Jane joked, then recoiled away from Maura’s swat to her arm. “I’m kidding!”

“Also known as William I, he was the first Norman king of England,” the doctor continued, a little grumpily in the face of Jane’s grin. “He defeated the last Anglo-Saxon king, Harold, at the Battle of Hastings.”

Jane beamed at her. “That’s my genius,” she gloated indulgently then leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. Maura smiled despite herself.

Constance smirked at Jane’s obvious adoration of her daughter. “My father used to say ‘An investment in knowledge pays the best interest.’”

“Benjamin Franklin,” Jane responded automatically, then grinned smugly at Maura’s look of shock. “Hey, I’m not so dumb. I did a term paper on him in high school.”

“I would never call you anything other than brilliant, Detective,” Maura replied, her voice lowered in a way that ran down Jane’s spine. Then her expression grew mischievous. “Merely crass.”

“Hey!”

Jane’s rejoinder was interrupted by the heavy _dong_ of the doorbell. 

Constance looked over her shoulder in surprise as Azima went to answer the door. “Where you expecting anyone, Maura?”

“No, Mother.”

A familiar voice drifts down the hallway and the housekeeper soon returned with Mugsie in tow. The baroness grimaced apologetically. “Mrs. Isles, do forgive my hideous intrusion this morning.”

Constance smiled as she rose to exchange air kiss greetings. “Nonsense, Lady Margaret. It is delightful to see you of course.”

“Could we please drop the ‘Lady’,” Mugsie begged plaintively and Constance laughed.

“Habits of a lifetime, my dear,” she apologized. “Do have some breakfast. I’m afraid Azima will insist.”

Mugsie sighed as she sank down into chair. “I wouldn’t dream of denying her, or her exquisite coffee.”

“Here, here,” Jane called, raising her own mug in a toast.

Once Mugsie was situated, Constance excused herself. “I’ll be gone most of the day, my darlings. I’m meeting with my agent about next month’s installation in Paris and I’m sure you have much to talk about.” She paused in the doorway and gave Jane a stern look. “I trust you’ll keep them out of trouble, Detective.”

Jane resisted the urge to salute. “Of course.”

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to seeing you at dinner.”

“Well, we know who _her_ favorite is,” Mugsie teased as Constance disappeared. “Buttering up the in-laws, I see.”

“Oh shut up.”

Mugsie chuckled, then her expression grew more serious. “So, I have some good news and some bad news, and I really didn’t want to share this at headquarters.”

Jane leaned forward, her own face intent. “What do you know?”

They paused as Azima returned long enough to deliver a plate and coffee then took her leave, the door to the kitchen swinging shut behind her.

Mugsie took a long sip then sat back, fingers fidgeting with a peace of toast. “So, got back word from the Australians, confirming that Ian Faulkner is in fact his legal name, but it was given to him as a teenage boy when he immigrated from Eastern Europe around 20 years ago or so with his father.” She shook her head with irritation. “The reason it took them so long to get back to me was that the files were marked as top secret for some mysterious reason — someone was paid off to expedite and then hide the official name change and it took a while to get the proper clearances to unseal the records.” She took a deep breath. “His original name was Imre Farkas, and the father was János Farkas.”

Maura’s face paled. “Are you sure?”

The Englishwoman nodded soberly, her face grave. “The father disappeared soon after; there’s no record of him anywhere recently. Ian, well, we know at least some of what he’s been up to.”

Jane looked back and forth between them. “Farkas? Like Katalin Farkas?”

Maura nodded. “Katalin’s father János was a known Soviet collaborator who managed to escape prosecution after the Eastern Bloc collapsed and the new democratic republic came to power in nineteen eighty-nine. He was suspected of many fairly horrific human rights abuses.”

“Katalin…” Jane couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought.

“She hated her father. She lived with her mother until her mother was killed in a robbery, and then she lived with her grandparents. I can see no possible way she could be involved in anything with János.”

“Or her brother,” Jane commented sourly, then noticed Maura’s startled expression. “That would make Ian her brother, right?”

Maura looked a little nauseated. “I suppose— yes, Ian would be her brother.”

“Speaking of Ian,” Mugsie took a bite of eggs. “The satchel?”

Jane glanced quickly at Maura, then withdrew a small brass key with a small tag attached to it. “You can have it of course, but other than a bunch of soggy paperwork, this was all that was in it.” She laid the items on the table before sitting back. “I took a look and I have some guesses, but let me know what you think.”

The two blonde women leaned forward.

“Locker key, perhaps.” said Mugsie, examining the key. 

“Or safety deposit box,” Jane offered. 

Maura examined the tag. “36 SW 148. The number certainly could be a location number.” She shook her head. “A safety deposit box wouldn’t likely have such an identification attached to it.”

Jane looked curiously at Mugsie. “This doesn’t seem like particularly scary information for someone in the intelligence service,” she commented finally. “Why did you want to talk here?”

Mugsie frowned and shook her head. “One of the reasons Sir Edward refuses to take my investigation seriously is that I’ve uncovered some aliases for those I believe in in charge of this new criminal organization, and because of that he thinks this whole thing is a colossal joke.” She bit her lip, then blurted. “I’ve found lots of references to Ernst Blofeld and Mister Bond.” 

Jane burst out laughing, after a moment she attempted to catch her breath, but at Maura’s quizzical expression laughed even harder. “Come on Maura,” she gasped. “Haven’t I ever made you watch a James Bond movie with me?”

Maura’s expression cleared somewhat. “I believe you subjected me to _Casino Royale_ but I don’t recall an Ernst Blofeld in that movie.”

Jane sat back. “Okay, fine, he wasn’t in that one. Let’s just say he’s the biggest bad guy in the James Bond universe.” She wiggled her eyebrows and affected a bad accent. “Do you expect me to talk?”

“No, Mister Bond, I expect you to die,” Mugsie finished the quote, grinning. “Except that wasn’t Blofeld, that was Goldfinger.”

“Whatever, nerd,” Jane retorted.

Maura stared at the both of them. “But if I’m understanding this terribly incoherent conversation, Blofeld and Bond were enemies, were they not?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t necessarily imply that our Blofeld and Bond are enemies.” Mugsie said mildly.

“Yeah, just that they’re into awesome spy movies,” Jane commented as she reached for another pastry. 

Mugsie was silent for a moment, then cleared her throat. “The other bit as to why I’m nervous talking about this at work,” she said finally, “is that it could also be an ironic reference to a traitor here in England working in concert with an Eastern European.”

Jane scowled. “Like Farkos.”

“Exactly.”

“So maybe he’s got a buddy here in the UK, who maybe could have helped grease the wheels with somebody in Australia for new identities.”

Mugsie grinned at Maura. “You did land yourself a smart one.” Then her smiled faded. “You can imagine how such a supposition would be viewed by Sir Edward, or anyone in MI5 or MI6 really.”

Jane pursed her lips. “I never understood what the difference was between those two,” she admitted.

“Essentially the difference between the FBI and the CIA,” Maura supplied. “One is internally focused, the other is external.”

“Which do you work for?” Jane asked Mugsie curiously.

“Technically, both. However it’s complicated.” Mugsie waved her hand. “Let’s just say that there are times where my team is almost certainly operating outside the realm of either national or international privacy law, but the data we trace almost always spans too many jurisdictional borders for us to do things the old-fashioned way.” She glared at Jane, as if daring her to protest.

“Don’t look at me,” Jane held up her hands. “Can’t tell you how many times my partner Frost has looked things up on his computer that we probably should have gotten a warrant for.”

“Ah, a fellow computer nerd, I see.”

“Oh yeah,” Jane laughed. “And he wants your autograph.”

“What a dear,” Mugsie murmured. “So, let’s keep the Blofeld Bond Farkos thing under our hats for a bit, shall we? I really want more time to dig into that before risking the ridicule of my compatriots. And if I’m right about the potential mole in our midst, I don’t want to tip their hand.”

Another loud _dong_ interrupted them. 

“ _Now_ what?” Jane demanded irritably.

There was a rumble of male voices, then after a few minutes Azima stuck her head in the room. “Miss Maura, two gentlemen are here to see you. I put them in the study.”

“Thank you, Azima,” replies Maura, puzzled but rising to her feet. Jane joined her, her whole body instantly on alert.

“You didn’t tell anyone else you were here, did you Maur?” she asked as she peered down the hall.

“No.”

Jane led the way, one hand slightly raised behind her as if to push Maura out of the way should trouble arise. As the women entered the richly appointed study two men rose from their chairs to face them. The closer man bowed slightly. “Forgive our intrusion,” he said in a heavily accented voice. His salt and pepper hair was cropped short and he had a carefully trimmed mustache. “I am Captain Sándor Szendrey and this is my assistant Lieutenant Károly Lovász. We spoke on the phone.”

Jane nodded and crossed her arms, clearly waiting them out. Szendrey waved Lovász forward.

“We have new information,” Lovász said, his voice deep and gravelly. “It leads us to believe that Doctor Farkas may have been brought to London. We are now working in concert with Interpol to continue the search here. We understand there may have been a satchel?”

The three women looked at each other. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the egregiously long delay, but hopefully some fun times in this chapter will be sufficient for forgiveness...

“That’s a cool building,” said Jane absently as she looked out at a large and imposing stone building with large black doors flanked by armed guards.  She had been quiet until now and Maura and Mugsie looked up in surprise.

“Saint James’ Palace,” Maura replied, peering over Jane’s shoulder.

“Not very palatial.”

Mugsie chuckled. “It’s five hundred years old and survived countless wars not to mention the London Blitz.  You’ll have to forgive it’s less than opulent appearance.”

“It’s still technically the location of the Royal Court of England,” Maura added with some enthusiasm. “It was built by Henry VIII during the Tudor era.”

Jane glanced at them with a faint smirk. “That’s the dude with a million wives, right?”

Maura swatted Jane’s arm as Mugsie choked back a laugh. “I believe the official count stands at eight for His Majesty, Detective.”

Jane fell silent again as Nigel carefully steered the Range Rover through London’s busy streets as he took them back to the imposing intelligence building.  The sidewalks were more crowded though the press of humanity was strangely colorless; endless dark overcoats and black umbrellas with only the rare flash of color.

“You were quite smooth back there, you know,” Jane commented to Mugsie “Making them think the satchel was already at your office without actually lying.”

Mugsie smirked. “Deflection and redirection are invaluable skills, for human interactions as well as digital ones.” She cocked her head as she regarded Jane. The lanky detective was clearly pensive. “What are you thinking?”

Jane leaned back and sighed. “Something smells funny,” she admitted after a moment. “And no, I don’t mean literally,” she added at Maura’s confused expression. “ They were pretty obviously expecting the satchel to be with us and the only person besides us who knew about the satchel is your boss, yet we had Starsky and Hutch show up asking about it. If it’s due to a mole, they aren’t being very subtle.”

“Starsky and Hutch?” asked Mugsie with a bewildered expression.

“Nevermind,” sighed Jane. “Your boss wouldn’t have said anything, right?”

Mugsie shook her head. “That would be a fairly extreme violation of protocol. Any foreign agents would be introduced at headquarters or some other secured location. Had Sir Edward intended this, he would have notified me directly.”

“Here we are ladies,” Nigel announced cheerfully. “Will you be needing me later?”

Maura smiled. “Thank you, Nigel, I’ll call if necessary.”

She accepted Jane’s hand as she stepped out of the car, and as they approached the doors two men in dark suits approached them. One was taller, a mop of white blonde hair over a tanned face. His companion was pale and freckled, with close cropped red hair cut slicked back.

“Lady Margaret,” began the taller man, but broke off at Mugsie’s outraged sputter. Behind him the redhead smothered a snort with a cough.

“ _Really_ , Chas?” Mugsie said with exasperation before turning back to Jane and Maura. “Detective Jane Rizzoli and Doctor Maura Isles, this is Chas Lennox and Ashley Smythe, agents of questionable judgement regarding women and terrible taste in drinks, but generally tolerable in other circumstances.”

The men nodded politely before leveling twin glares at the blonde.

Jane chuckled. “You’re really selling your people here, Mugsie.”

“Don’t worry gentlemen,” Maura reassured the two men. “I can assure you Mugsie’s taste in men is as questionable as they come.”

“Maura!”

“Good to know, Doctor,” rumbled Smythe. His voice was a rich baritone, surprisingly deep for such a lean frame. “Before Lennox forgot he was promised a lingering death if he kept referring to Mugsie via her title, we were actually sent to escort you to Sir Edward’s office.”

Mugsie’s eyebrow went up but she merely said, “Well then, by all means.”

Smythe lead the way down a new corridor, more lushly appointed and ending in an opulent reception area with leather seats and luxuriant wood inlayed tables. A beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair sat behind a desk, a communications headset in place as she she typed a rapid staccato, occasionally speaking quietly into her mouthpiece. Finally she hit a button on her computer and rose gracefully from her desk, her eyes fixed on Mugsie.

“Lady Margaret, it’s been too long.”

Jane was surprised to see Mugsie’s face slip carefully into a neutral expression.

“Miss Lytton. A pleasure as always.” Her voice was excruciatingly polite.

Miss Lytton’s gaze was cool as she took in the rest of the group, then turned and headed towards dark double doors. “Sir Edward is expecting you.”

“Well that wasn’t awkward at all,” Jane murmured to Maura as they followed the dark-haired women into the next room.

Maura nodded, her expression thoughtful.

They passed through a second set of double doors to find Sir Edwards seated behind a leather topped desk, deeply engrossed with a thick file folder. The walls of his office were covered with bookcases, and several chairs and couches were clustered near a huge fireplace. Behind the desk was a large antique photograph of a man in military uniform dripping with braids and medals, and Jane found herself drawn to it. The man in the portrait was posed, leaning somewhat stiffly against an ornate wooden table, the hilt of a sword visible under his hand. Old-fashioned spectacles perched on his nose, and through them his expression showed a man filled with a steely resolve.

“Sir Vernon Kell, founder of British intelligence.” Sir Edward’s voice interrupted Jane’s inspection.

Jane’s gaze dropped to see him rise and approach them. “He reminds me of my Lieutenant. Looks like a guy who’s seen a lot.”

Sir Edward gestured for everyone to sit down. “A forward thinker. The concept of an intelligence service was deemed somehow unsporting or even dishonorable by many of his contemporaries.”

“A pity he was rewarded for his devotion to our nation’s security by being sacked,” Mugsie remarked as she sank onto a nearby wing chair.

“Indeed.” Sir Edward frowned over his glasses at her, then turned to his assistant who still hovered haughtily nearby. “Thank you, Beatrice, that will be all.”

“Of course, Sir Edward.” Miss Lytton pressed her lips together in annoyance, but merely nodded and cast one last unfriendly glance at Mugsie before retreating through the double doors, closing them behind her.

“Awwwkwaaaard,” Jane whispered to Maura who rolled her eyes and nudged Jane into silence as Mugsie summarized their earlier meeting with Lovász and Szendrey.

“Most unusual,” Sir Edward said after a long pause. “We will of course make inquiries.” He gestured at Lennox. “Mr. Lennox, please ask Miss Lytton to confirm our Hungarian friends’ credentials with the appropriate parties.”

Jane was sure she caught a small eye roll from the blonde agent and bit back a smirk as he exited.

“Let us assume they are as they say, legitimate representatives of Hungarian law enforcement,” he continued. “What is their interest in the satchel and how does it relate to our missing person?”

Maura reached down and pulled the battered satchel from her oversized tote. Sir Edward’s eyebrow lifted and he steepled his fingers as Maura handed it to Lennox who in turn set it on a nearby table and pulled it open, revealing the mouldering paperwork.

“We had a look,” Jane drawled. “If you’ve got a way of recovering what’s on those soggy mess it might tell you something interesting.”

“There was nothing else?”

Jane glanced at Maura who promptly said, “A small key. It’s in the front pocket there.”

Sir Edward immediately leaned forward as Smythe pulled the small key from where Maura indicated.

Smythe poked at the damp mound thoughtfully after handing the key to the curious bureau chief. “The ink has clearly run and the papers have somewhat melded together. I suspect it will be difficult, but perhaps not impossible, to get something.”

Sir Edward turned the key over in his hands, deep in thought.

“Is it likely the target was even Katalin at all?” Mugsie wondered as she too leaned forward to pick at the papers.

“It’s hard to imagine any reason why Katalin — Doctor Farkas,” she said as an aside to the men, “would be the primary target. She didn’t know Ian for more than an hour before the explosion. She was only holding his satchel to keep it out of the way while he carried her to the lifeboat due to her injury. It strains credulity that somehow she was the target on her own doing.”

Jane leaned forward. “That said, how many people knew that she had Ian’s satchel to know to grab her in the first place?” She shook her head. “Something’s missing here.”

“I agree,” said Smythe, while Mugsie nodded.

Sir Edward stood, clearly bringing their discussion to a close. “Well then, don’t let me keep you. I’ll expect daily reports, of course?”

“Of course, sir,” Mugsie replied.

They met Lennox on their way out. “Our friends from the Rendőrség check out,” he reported, then shook his head. “But this whole thing feels right odd.”

Smythe still held the satchel gingerly in his hands. In the still air of the office the musty smell emanating from it was growing quite strong. “I’ll take this down to the technicians to see what they can do with it, shall I?” He paused, then looked back at the closed door behind them in chagrin. “Sir Edward still has the key.”

Miss Lytton gracefully interposed herself between him and the door when he turned to go back. “Sir Edward will be meeting with the Defense Minister shortly. I will pass along any message you may have.”

“Never mind,” he muttered, turning back to Mugsie. “I’ll see what I can do with this and deal with that later.”

“Best of luck, old chap,” chuckled Lennox as Smythe disappeared down a side corridor.

“Don’t be too smug, Chaz,” Mugsize scolded. “I need you to sit down with Ethan to trace the Hungarian’s movements for the past couple of days.”

Lennox winced and nodded glumly. At Jane’s questioning glance, Mugsie said, “Ethan’s the young man who will be doing naked royal laps soon. He may make lousy wagers, but he really is quite good at what he does.”

“He’s a right prat,” grumbled Lennox.

Mugsie blew kisses at the retreating agents then turned to face the amused women watching her. “Come ladies, not much to be done for you both at this point. I’ll ring you up when we’ve found something.” She led them back towards the building’s entrance. “Take her round jolly old London, Isles. I’m sure you’ll find things of interest to you both.”

Maura smiled. “I believe I can think of one or two things. Dinner tonight?”

“That would be lovely, though it may need to be on the late side. Savoy at eight thirty?” Mugsie smirked. “It’s show night.”

Maura looked at Jane speculatively. “We’ll need to do some shopping, but I think that’s a delightful idea.”

Jane groaned. “Really, Maura? Isn’t it bad enough you drag me shopping in Boston?”

The doctor pressed a kiss against the grumbling detective’s jaw. “Oh, trust me, Jane. You’ll find it’s for a _very_ worthy cause.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, well, Detective,” purred Mugsie as she took in Jane’s appearance.

Jane blushed and plucked at her jacket in embarrassment. “Maura insisted.”

Maura slid her hand down Jane’s lapels with pride. “And I was correct in doing so. I knew the Burburry tuxedo would suit you marvelously.”

“Very Garbot,” Mugsie added. “You’ll have to stuff her into an Yves St Laurent Le Smoking ensemble next.”

Jane ducked her head, but Maura noticed the hint of a pleased smile on the detective’s lips. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the form fitted silk jacket and his waisted trousers accentuated her lithe figure.

“Well, Maura still looks like a runway model,” Jane mumbled, glaring at several men at the bar surreptitiously eyeing her date, resplendent in a deep purple gown with one side slit tantalizingly up a silky thigh, breasts lovingly accentuated by smooth satin.

Mugsie herself was daringly attired in a red leather bustier and matching short waisted jacket. Tight black leather pants tucked into polished knee high boots completed the outfit and Jane couldn’t help but think they were horrendously over dressed, even for a fancy bar.

“I take it this place is pretty different from the Dirty Robber,” she said as a tuxedoed maitre’d approached the trio.

“You have no idea,” Maura murmured. “But I suspect you’ll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Mugsie sank into a plush seat with a contented sigh. “So, what were you up to all day?”

“Shopping,” groused Jane automatically, then flinched as Maura poked her under the table. “Okay, and we spent a little time at the Tower of London.”

“We spent _hours_ ,” Maura corrected. “I practically had to drag you out of there.” She looked ruefully at Mugsie. “She became very popular with the Beefeaters on duty due to her enthusiasm over the torture devices and speculation on how much it would improve interrogations.”

“Hey, all I’d have to do is just _show_ that stuff to some of the idiots I have to talk to,” Jane retorted. “They’d open right up! Anyway, any luck with—” she broke off as Mugsie waved her hand.

“No work talk tonight, Detective,” she declared. “This is special night.”

A waitress arrived to take their cocktail orders, and Maura convinced Jane to forgo her usual beer. Dinner followed soon after, and as Jane started to think about the dessert possibilities a nearby curtain slid open, revealing a small stage.

Maura and Mugsie both turned to see Jane’s reaction as a buxom woman wearing a black lace corset, fishnet stockings, and not much else appeared and smiled at the audience, microphone in hand. Behind her a second curtain opened, revealing two more women swirling casually upside down around bright brass poles.

The emcee raised one hand theatrically. “Welcome, my dears, to the Savoy Cabaret!” She caught sight of the astonished detective and ran a pink tongue over her lips before blowing her a kiss.

Jane’s jaw dropped.

 

* * *

 

Maura sank down against the bed, her eyes dark with arousal as she stared at Jane. The detective locked the door and stalked across the room, sliding her jacket off her shoulders as she went. Her crisp shirt soon followed. Maura stood up and slid her hands across the front of Jane’s pants, sliding the zipper down with deliberation before she shoved them down.

“I need these _off_.”

“My, my, Doctor Isles,” Jane murmured. “Are we eager?”

“Wth the amount of torture you subjected me to during the show, you’re lucky I didn’t take you then and there.” Mission accomplished Maura shoved Jane down onto the mattress and slid her own zipper down, encouraging her dress to fall with a slight shimmy that caused her breasts to sway and Jane’s breath to catch in her throat.

“You tried hard in the car,” Jane pointed out, her eyes glazing at the glorious skin getting exposed before her. Underneath her dress Maura was bare, a fact Jane had discovered while taking advantage of the slit in Maura’s dress and the tablecloth draped across their table. As her fingers had stilled in surprise at the lack of any barrier, Maura had leaned over and whispered, “Panty lines.”

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting an ethereal glow across the doctor as she lowered herself onto Jane. Jane groaned at the electric feel of skin on skin and she leaned up and captured Maura in a fierce kiss, sliding her hands up the smooth back to wrap her fingers in blonde curls.

Maura pressed herself hard onto the firm body beneath her, then gasped as Jane’s thigh rose up between her legs putting a delicious pressure against her wet heat. “You feel so good,” she whispered.

With a grunt Jane flipped them over and buried her face in Maura’s neck. Gone was any thought of criminal masterminds, or moles, or annoying Hungarians.

Jane’s focus was absolute.

“Let me hear you, Maur’” she said hoarsely.

Maura bit her lip, then choked out, “I love to feel you against me.”

Jane slid down her body and captured a rosy nipple in her teeth.

“You make me feel — oh God — so sexy.” Maura whimpered as Jane’s hand palmed her breast in matching time to the flickering of her tongue.

“I need —“ Maura broke off as Jane nipped her way across her abdomen and scarred hands caressing pale hips, her lips brushing across the mons pubis.

“Jane — please,” Maura pleaded, her voice catching. “Let me — feel you.”

The brunette sank lower, nuzzling through coarse curls and breathing in the heady smells of Maura’s arousal. She flicked out her tongue, exploring. The groan that rattled Maura’s throat caused Jane to smirk then she dove, relishing every gasp and plea that the doctor uttered, Jane’s name a prayer on her lips.

As Maura’s hips started to rock in earnest against her, Jane slid one finger into scorching heat, then two, curling them against throbbing inner walls as she pumped, faster and faster.

“Oh God, oh God, oh _fuck_ — _JANE_!” Maura’s scream ripped from her as her body arched in ecstasy. As her muscles relaxed she tugged feebly at Jane’s arm and the detective slithered up her body and rolled her over to rest snuggly against her. Maura was breathing hard, but her smile was sultry and sated.

“Love you, Maur,” Jane said softly into her hair before she pressed a kiss against a sweaty temple. Then she laughed. “I love that I made you swear even more. The prim and proper Doctor Isles can swear like a pirate when properly inspired.”

Maura wriggled closer, her arm wrapped tightly around Jane’s torso. “Special occasion, Detective Rizzoli, and when I catch my breath, I’ll be sure to make you swear in foreign languages.”


	11. Chapter 11

Maura’s new phone rang as Nigel pulled the Ranger Rover up to the intelligence headquarters.

“Good morning, Mugsie. We’re just arriving.” She frowned and Jane raised an eyebrow, questioning. Maura raised one hand, listening hard. “Where do you want us?”

“We’ll be right there.” She tossed her phone on the seat next to her and leaned forward. “I beg your pardon Nigel, but would you please drive us to Royal London Hospital.”

Nigel nodded. “Right away, Miss Maura.”

Jane’s stomach clenched at the look on her face. “What happened?”

“Captain Szendry called Sir Edward’s office this morning. They tracked down Katalin.” She took a deep breath, her distress obvious. “She’s at the hospital and apparently passed on information before she fell unconscious. She’s now in a coma. Mugsie’s at the hospital with her now, along with the Hungarians. Mugsie said she didn’t look very good.”

“Shit.” Jane grabbed her hands as she started to wring them. “How in the hell did the Hungarians find her?”

Maura shook her head. “Mugsie didn’t know yet.”

Jane paused at the look on Maura’s face. “Honey, what’s wrong?"

“Oh Jane,” Maura murmured. “We were out celebrating last night, and who knows what she was going through—“

“Hey, hey, stop that.” Jane pulled her closer. “Mugsie made it clear there was nothing we could do and we needed a good distraction. We’re on it now, okay? We’re going to do everything we can to keep her safe, now that we’ve got her back.”

The car slowed to a stop before the glass doors of a massive building.

Jane peered around as she helped Maura out of the car, noticing the large brick building across the street. “Geez, that place looks like a castle, too.”

The blonde looked around as she entered the lobby, apparently searching for Mugsie. “The original hospital across the street was founded in the late eighteenth century,” she replied absently. “The whole campus is quite large, covering several city blocks, mostly with much more modern buildings such as this one.”

“Detective Rizzoli, Doctor Isles!”

They turned to see Ashley Smythe and Chas Lennox emerge from a nearby elevator, followed by the Hungarian police captain. The men walked briskly towards them, dodging the nurses, doctors, and patients streaming through.

“Hello Agent Smythe, Agent Lennox, Lieutenant Lovász,” said Maura, polite as ever despite her concern. Behind her Jane shook her head with a smile even as she nodded a greeting at the men. “How is Doctor Farkas?”

“Sorry to say she’s in serious condition,” Smythe replied soberly. “Szendrey has a note that she apparently meant to pass on to you.”

Lovász shifted impatiently. “We received information from a contact that there was one in London who might help us. It is he who gave us information that led us to Doctor Farkas, and he also provided an introduction to another man who may have more information.”

Jane noted that Lennox’s jaw was clenched. He was clearly irritated that the Brits had been brought in after the fact, but he said merely, “I’ve got a car here, so we’re going now.” Then, with a twinkle he added, “Like to come along, Detective?”

“You’re going now? Where’s Mugsie?” she asked, not missing Lovász’s immediate negative reaction to the idea of her joining.

Lennox jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s upstairs with Szendrey, talking to the doctors. Smythe is heading back upstairs and Sir Edward is sending additional security now.”

“We must go now,” Lovász rumbled. “Our contact was not certain the man we seek would stay around long and Captain Szendrey insists we hurry.”

Jane squeezed Maura’s arm as she looked at Lennox. “Sure, I’ll come along.” At the doctor’s shocked expression she quickly turned and hugged her, whispering into Maura’s ear. “I don’t trust Lovász or Szendrey and Lennox could use backup. Stay with Smythe and Mugsie, okay?”

“Jane—” Maura murmured back urgently.

Jane gave a slight shake to her head. “I’ll be fine.” She turned and clapped Lovász on the back to his obvious discomfiture. “Let’s go see a man about a horse!”

Smythe turned to escort Maura into the elevator, but she paused in the doorway to look back at Jane, standing with her usual confidence next to Lennox.

“Please take care,” she said earnestly.

“Not a worry,” Lennox smiled. “I’ll have us back in no time.”

 

* * *

 

When the elevator doors closed, Smythe turned immediately to Maura.

“Didn’t want to say in front of our friends from the Rendőrség,” he said, his impeccably upper crust accent not hiding the stress in his tone. “But we received some preliminary information about that mess of papers from Faulkner’s satchel.”

Maura looked up. “Something useful?”

“Sir Edward is included to think not,” Smythe began.

Maura crossed her arms. “I’ve already see Sir Edward’s dismissive attitude and I’m sorry to say I’m not inclined to agree with his assessment over a friend and colleague I know to be eminently trustworthy and reliable with her information”

Smythe shrugged. “I will admit I wasn’t originally feeling confident about Mugsie’s investigation into the Soviet-spawned crime syndicates, but what was on some of those papers—” he trailed off. “If they prove to be at all genuine, there’s evidence of Cold War era documents indicating that a number of high level officials in various NATO countries had been selling information to the Eastern bloc. I recognized some of those names, and that information in the wrong hands could threaten not only NATO alliance but the whole European Union.”

Maura paled. “So it’s possible the key we found—“

“Accesses the location where those documents could be hidden,” Lennox finished gravely. “And the fact those documents might be here in London give credence to Mugsie’s theory of a mole.” At Maura’s look of shock, he nodded grimly. “Mugsie told us, quietly and off the record. She knew she could trust us.”

Maura studied him carefully. His red hair, so carefully groomed when they first met, was now slightly ruffled and his eyes were shadowed with fatigue. He smiled faintly at her inspection. “Hopefully you find us as trustworthy, Doctor Isles.”

She cocked her head. “Well, I will say that you’re either very sincere or an outstanding prevaricator, but as I do trust Mugsie and she apparently trusts you, we’ll go with that for now.”

He chuckled. The elevator doors opened with a quiet ping and he held out his arm to allow her to step out before he followed her and offered her his arm. “Can’t say fairer than that, Doctor.”

She smiled and looped her hand around his elbow. Together they walked down the long white corridor towards a nurses station just visible at the end of the hallway. As they approached, Mugsie emerged from a nearby doorway. She saw Lennox and Maura and waved them over. Her face was grave.

“They think Thallium poisoning,” she muttered without preamble.

Maura’s hand went to her mouth. “Have they administered the Prussian Blue treatment?”

“Just started. Thankfully they’re up on that sort of thing here after the whole Litvinenko fiasco.” Mugsie replied. She caught Lennox’s eye and he nodded. At Maura’s raised eyebrow he explained. “During the Soviet era the KGB, and more recently the Russian FSB agencies, have been known to use poison for assassinations. Slower acting, harder to trace, but until recently always fatal.” He grimaced. “Given the amount of ex-intelligence agents moving into organized crime, I suppose it’s to be expected they’d bring their favorite techniques with them.”

Maura frowned. “So either the assassin in this case didn’t know Thallium was now treatable, or they didn’t have an alternative and just hoped it wouldn’t be discovered in time.”

Smythe looked up and swore under his breath. “Well, things are about to get more interesting now.”

Sir Edward and Captain Szendrey approached them, flanked by two expressionless men in overcoats. With a wave of Sir Edward’s hand the two men wordlessly flanked the doorway Mugsie had just exited. He turned to her.

“Lennox, Collingsworth, have you been able to get a statement from Doctor Farkas?”

“Not yet, Sir,” said Mugsie. “She is still being treated.”

Szendrey held out a folded piece of paper to Maura.

“For you, Doctor Isles,” he rasped. “We found this letter with her, addressed to you.”

Maura unfolded the crumpled paper.

_Moira,_

_I hope this note finds you — I have been taken by men who are enemies of my father. I have heard them talking of a large sum of money kept hidden in a train station locker. Your friend Ian had stolen the means to retrieve this money and whatever he stole was in his satchel. I am going to try and escape, and if so will try and at least try and mail you this note. I think the money is at Victoria Station in London and something in the satchel will help you find it. I hope to see you again but it’s not looking likely._

_Pray for me,_

_Katalin_

Maura reread the letter twice, then looked up to see everyone watching her curiously. With a deep breath she twisted her expression to one of sorrow. “Margaret, would you take me in to see her?”

Mugsie looked startled, but nodded quickly. “Of course. We’ll have to stay out of the way of the staff of course—“

“Please.”

Maura shuffled through the doorway, her head bowed with apparent grief. Mugsie followed closer behind her, and the two of them paused at the foot of the hospital bed holding their friend. Katalin’s face was pale and drawn, and the numerous machines attached to her showed the seriousness of her condition. Two nurses adjusted the IV bags as a doctor reviewed her chart. With a final glance of her vitals, the doctor nodded and escorted the nurses from the room, giving no more than a passing glance at Mugsie and Maura.

“Okay, what the hell,” said Mugsie. “You never call me Margaret.”

Maura rubbed Katalin’s foot under the blanket before turning to Mugsie.

“The note is a forgery.”

Mugsie’s face grew set. “Are you certain?”

Maura handed over the note and waited as Mugsie scanned it then frowned.

“Spelled your name wrong.”

“Exactly.”

“Shite.”

“Yes.”

Mugsie swore under her breath, then turned as the Smythe hurried into the room. “Sir Edward just got a call. They’ve caught a credible threat to Doctor Farkas so we’re going to move her.”

“Impossible.” Maura said flatly. “She’ll die without this treatment.”

Smythe pushed back the curtain and quickly scanned out the window before turning back to them. “I know there’s a risk. He’s arranging for transport now.”

Maura felt a chill and she looked over at Mugsie helplessly. There was something wrong…

Szendrey pushed the door open with a wheelchair. “Actually, she’s not actually that interesting anymore, Agent Smythe.”

“Excuse me?” Smythe stared at him.

“No offense meant,” Szendrey grinned, then pulled a pistol from a coat pocket. A silencer was already screwed into. “Unfortunately things have not gone quite as planned, so it’s always good to have a backup plan, don’t you agree?”

Smythe immediately placed himself in front of Mugsie and Maura. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Szendrey smirked. “A loose end, I’m afraid.” Before anyone could react he pumped three rounds into Smythe, the silencer muffling the sound to a series of soft _snicks_. The red head’s body slumped to the floor.

“Pick him up and put him in the shower,” Szendrey demanded as he pointed the gun at Katalin’s still form. “Or I’ll shoot dear Katalin as she sleeps.”

Maura bent quickly over the agent’s still body, feeling desperately for a pulse. After a moment she raised her eyes with a pang of sadness and met Mugsie’s gaze. She shook her head and Mugsie went pale. “Oh God…”

“Move!” Szendrey ordered with a jerk of his gun.

With silent apologies the two women wrestled Smythe’s limp form into the shower and at Szendrey’s instruction pulled the curtain closed, shielding him from view. With Katalin still unconscious it was likely he wouldn’t be discovered for some time.

“Now,” Szendrey said, his voice a menacing growl. “We will exit the hospital quietly or you will both die. Do you understand?”

“Where are you taking us? What have you done with Sir Edward?” Mugsie demanded.

“None of that information is any concern of yours. You are my insurance policy at this point, should there be any difficulties with my compatriot and your friends.” He slung his overcoat over his arm, effectively hiding the gun. “Go. Now.”

The exited the room, surprised that the guards Sir Edward had posted were now gone. The nurses station was similarly empty, and he hurried them past the elevators to a stairwell.

“Go up!” he commanded as the women hesitated. “No talking!”

Maura glanced at Mugsie. Her friend’s face was grim with tension, but she showed no fear. Maura took a deep breath and climbed steadily. After several floors worth of climb they reached the top and emerged onto a helo pad where a small gray helicopter sat waiting, blades already turning.

“Get in!” Szendrey bellowed, the gun once again in evidence.

“You’re mad,” Mugsie yelled back. “There are a hundred cameras around the hospital recording this!”

He shook his head and smirked. “I assure you it does not matter.”

With no other choice they clambered into back seats of the helicopter and buckled themselves in at which point he handcuffed them to their seats.

“Well this is not how I thought today was going to turn out when I got up this morning,” Mugsie shouted at Maura as the helicopter lifted into the air with a roar.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Some writer's block, turns out trying to do nail-biting adventure is hard, but whatever, hope you enjoy!
> 
> :)

Jane gripped the dashboard in front of her with two desperate hands as Chas Lennox slalomed through London traffic. The car was a Vauxhall, a brand Jane had never heard of but according to Chas was of excellent British quality. In the backseat Lovász sat calmly, seemingly unperturbed by the insane driving of the Englishman.

“I thought Boston drivers were bad,” Jane griped through clenched teeth. 

Chas grinned, his eyes still focused on the obstacles in front of them. “This is nothing. You should try driving in Edinburgh.”

They hear a phone ring behind them, and the Hungarian’s low voice filtered forward.

“ _Halló._ ” A long pause. “ _Értem._ ” Another pause. “ _Fognak vigyázni rá._ ”

Jane frowned but said nothing. She did however, notice Chas’ jaw tighten and his eyes flicker at the rear viewer mirror briefly.

There was a final beep then Lovász leaned forward. “That was our contact. He managed to get more information and has a new address for us. He encourages us to hurry.” He held his phone out for them to see an text message with a name and address.

“Bloody hell,” Chas swore under his breath. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he veered across two lanes and took a side street, the tires of his car squealing at the abuse. He fumbled in his coat pocket for his phone and handed it to Jane, walking her through contacting headquarters.

“When they answer, feed them the new address, will you?”

After a moment, she heard a click and a smooth voice of Beatrice Lytton. “Office of Sir Edward.”

“Jane Rizolli, calling on behalf of Agent Lennox, reporting a change of address.” 

There was a pause, then with an edge to her voice she finally responded. “Go ahead.”

Jane recited the address, not having a chance to say anything else when she heard a final click and a dial tone.

“Bitch hung up on me,” she complained, handing the phone back to Chas.

“Who?” he replied, sounding surprised.

“Sir Edward’s secretary. What’s her name — Miss Lytton.” 

He pursed his lips but didn’t answer, instead focusing on street names and numbers, his speed reducing to something resembling normal. Finally, he pulled onto a narrow side street, putting a pass on his dash then with a quick gesture they all exited the car.

Jane rubbed her hands, glancing around her at the somewhat bleak buildings. “Where are we?” 

“East Croydon Station. It’s a train stop about halfway between Gatwick airport and the City of London itself.” He looked hard at the Hungarian, who was staring at his phone. “The address was to the luggage storage facility here. People keep their luggage here all the time on longish layovers. Also a pretty prime location for illicit handoffs, to be honest. There’s usually police handy because of it.”

Lovász shrugged. “Your police can’t be very good at stopping it if it’s still happening,” he muttered. “Come on, he should be inside.”

He led the way, but as Chas moved to follow he brushed up against Jane and she felt a sudden weight drop gently into her jacket pocket. With studied nonchalance she slipped her hands casually into each pocket, as if cold. She was not terribly surprised to feel the familiar shape of a pistol under her hand; Chas had definitely been getting more tense as their trip went on.

The interior of the building revealed impressive rows of large metal lockers, each locker three feet high and four feet wide, two rows stacked together.

A nearby desk was empty, a small TV behind the desk showing a black and white broadcast of a soccer match.

Lovász strode forward a few steps and called out. “Georgie!”

There was an immediate response. “Over here!”

They turned a corner and saw a swarthy, heavy-set man leaning against a locker, a lit cigar in his teeth. The smoke curled lazily over his head and his eyes were watchful.

“You have information for us?” Lovász demanded.

The cigar flared as Georgie sucked hard on it, rolling the smoke around his month before blowing it out in a thick billowing cloud. “You have my money?”

Lovász jerked his head at Chas, and with an annoyed grunt the Englishman pulled a thick envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it at him.

“I managed to discover that key of yours was to a locker here.” He peered into the envelope and flipped through the stack of bills inside, licking his lips, then shrugged and turned to go.

Chas pulled his phone out. “I’ll get someone to bring the key from Sir Edward’s office.”

Georgie turned back around and nodded at Lovász. Chas followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing. “What—”

Lovász turned suddenly, pulling a small truncheon from his pocket. He delivered a brutal blow to Chas temple and the blonde collapsed in a heap, fortunately not even feeling the following kick to his ribs. Jane tensed and started to leap forward but halted as Georgie leveled a gun at her. She raised her hands.

“You bastard,” she muttered, her fists clenched. “I had a bad feeling about you.”

Lovász merely chuckled. “To bad you did not, how do you say? Listen to your gut.” He pulled the small key from his pocket and peered carefully at the number. With Georgie gesturing her to follow along, Jane went along seemingly meekly, mindful of the gun in her pocket but not sure she could get off a shot before she was shot herself, and not wanting to alert them she had it. They should have searched her, but she certainly wasn’t going to point that out.

They stopped in the middle of the next row, and the Lieutenant smirked at her as he pushed the key into the lock. His expression turned to shock as he realized it didn’t fit. He jiggled it with growing fury, then turned to Georgie.

“You fool!” he growled. “We are in the wrong place!”

“This is what he told me!” The swarthy man protested. “Why would he give us the wrong information?” His face grew angry. “Unless you got the wrong key!”

Lovász poked him in the chest. “I took this from Sir Edward’s hand, and he got it from her and her idiot friend. It was Imre’s bag!”

Taking her chance as their attention was on each other, Jane dove out of the way, bring the pistol out of her pocket as she did so. 

Georgie bellowed in rage and swung his gun around, but flew back against the far lockers as Jane put two in his chest. At the first shot Lovász sprinted out of the way, his own gun emerging. Jane rolled up against the end of the row, her back against the metal, trying to get her breath and heartbeat under control.

“So Sir Edward’s dirty, huh?” she shouted, before ducking back down and sprinting two rows farther down as silently as she could, heading for the exit. 

“He’s been with us for years!” Lovász replied, his voice mocking. “All that useful information coming right to us. So much for the vaunted English honor. They love money and power as much as anyone.”

She drew up behind a brick support column, listening hard for the sound of footsteps. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to figure out what path he might take. She also took a moment to review her gun, pleased to see that while it was a little smaller than her usual Glock, it still had a nine shot clip. Plenty of shots left for this asshole.

Jane remembered something Mugsie had said. “He’s Mister Bond, isn’t he? He’s the mole in his own organization.” She laughed bitterly. “No wonder he kept pretending it was a ridiculous idea.”

“One of the most trusted men in the country,” he laughed and Jane tensed — his voice sounded closer, but she still couldn’t hear him moving. “Typical fools.”

Take a deep breath she ducked back down again and skittered across to another support column. A shot rang out, taking a chunk out of the brick above her. She slid the last few feet, glancing behind her as she did so. Her peripheral vision caught a slight movement as his head ducked out from a nearby row of lockers, his gun held at ready while he searched. 

A clatter near the front desk had him racing forward, clearly thinking it Jane. She instantly rose up, her gun sighted on him. “Hey Lovász! Drop it or I’ll shoot!”

He turned and scowled, his own gun swinging around and he started firing even before his arm had swung fully around. Jane cursed and fired twice more, and she stepped forward slowly, her eyes fixed on the hand lying closest to his dropped weapon. His eyes watched her approach and blood bubbled on his lips as he gasped for breath.

“You cannot— stop us,” he rasped. “We are more powerful than governments.” 

Jane scoffed, her footsteps still slow and cautious. “I doubt it. You’ve been successful because it’s been kept so secret, but it’s all gonna be out in the open now, asshole.”

Lovász cursed and lunged for the gun before jerking into stillness as Jane put one more shot into his heart.

“I believe the saying is ’nice shootin’ Tex’, is it not?”

She whirled, her eyes widening as she took in the shaking form of Chas, his hands braced against the lockers to hold himself upright, his eyes a little glassy from the likely concussion.

“Jesus, let me help you.” She slipped under his arm over her shoulders and wrapped her arm around his waist. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

“Wait, Jane,” he gasped, his free arm clutching his ribs. “We need to get that locker open and recover what’s in it. Too risky to leave it.”

“Oh!” Jane would have slapped herself if her hands had been free. “I can get us in.”

Chas looked at her, askance.

Jane smirked at him despite the circumstance. “No seriously, I have the key.” They made their way back down the rows towards the fateful locker. Jane propped him against one side then kneeled down to take off her boot. A moment’s rummage later and she extracted a small brass key from under her insole.

“Where in the hell did that come from?” Chas demanded a little breathlessly. 

Jane slid the key smoothly into the lock and felt it click open with a deep sense of satisfaction. She grinned as she extracted a metal suitcase, similar to what she’d seen handcuffed to spies in too many action movies. “This whole thing has smelled since I got to Europe. I didn’t trust anybody, and decided I’d keep the original key just in case, and had a new one made that was almost but not quite the same. That’s the one Sir Edward ended up with.”

Chas stared at her for a long moment, then started chuckling. “Bloody hell, Rizzoli, I don’t know whether to be appalled or impressed.”

She snorted. “Well, right now you should be bloody grateful.”

“Good point.” He took a deep breath, then winced. “Well, let me call in the calvary and then we need to get back to the hospital.”

Jane’s face went white. “Oh my god, Maura.”

“She’s with Mugsie and Ashley—” Chas began doubtfully.

“And Szendrey and Sir Edward and who knows who else of your people who’ve been subverted to the cause.” Jane stabbed furiously at her phone. “Come on, come on, come on, come on, pick up, Maura,” she pleaded, pacing.

“ _This is Doctor Maura Isles, I’m not able to answer your call—”_

Jane slung Chas’ arm back across her shoulder, ignoring his pained yelp. “Stiff upper lip, man, we’ve got to go now.”

“What about the dead bodies we’re leaving behind?” he protested.

“Call it in, but I’m not waiting.” 

They burst through the door and hustled back to the Vauxhall. She eased him in the passenger seat then ran around to the driver seat. 

“It’s a good thing you’re such a shit driver, because I’ve never driven right side drive before.”

Chas paled. “Oh dear God.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay, but our ladies are back in action! Will try my damnedest to get the next chapter out soon, promise...

“Stay to the left!” Chas yelped as they swung around a curve in the road. The knuckles on his left hand whitened as he clutched the safety bar. “Not you, James. Talking to my mad driver.”

Jane gritted her teeth. “Backwards freaking country — the entire world drives on the right, what is wrong with you people?”

“Damn, are you sure?” Chas choked as he listened to the voice on his phone, his eyes widened with shock. “Yes, yes, I understand. We’ve obtained additional information that’s extremely critical, heading to headquarters now. Please ensure Doctor Farkas is secure and meet us there.” He pocketed the phone, his face now a blank mask. “Smythe is dead. Szendrey took Mugsy and Doctor Isles out of the hospital on a helicopter but Doctor Farkas was left behind. CCTV footage tracked it to the eastern dockyards but it landed in a private area with no immediately available security footage.”

“Fuck,” said Jane, her face sorrowful. “I’m sorry about your partner.”

He swallowed and nodded jerkily. “We went to academy together.” He swallowed hard.

Jane nodded somberly. “Back in Boston we’d finish putting the bad guys away, then get completely destroyed drinking in honor of our fallen.”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “I could easily find myself subscribing to this Yankee tradition.”

Jane swung around a slower car before glancing at her pensive passenger.

“You didn’t say anything about your boss.”

“This phone is insecure, so it would be potentially risking our hand. Also,” he added ruefully, “He wouldn’t have believed me. I’m still not sure _I_ believe it. We’re going to need evidence.” He paused thoughtfully. “And the only place we’ll have a chance at finding any is at headquarters. Turn right here.”

The Vauxhall’s tires squealed as Jane took the turn at speed, the car’s rear wheels skidded a bit before they caught and launched the car down a side street.

“Bloody hell,” Chas groaned, holding on even more tightly

“Sir Edward’s clean as far as anyone there knows,” grumbled Jane, ignoring his discomfort. “And he probably has converted some people outright. There’s always some assholes who will happily allow themselves to be bought.”

Chas nodded, his face grim. “I wish I could disagree with you. A week ago I would have punched you, woman or not, for questioning the integrity of any at the agency.”

Jane scoffed. “You mean you would have _tried._ ”

The road turned sharply and Jane slowed the car not at all.

“BLOODY HELL, RIZZOLI!”

 

* * *

 

 

The helicopter door slid open, and a dark suited man with a pistol waved Maura and Mugsie out. It was awkward with their heels but neither moved to accept the proffered hand. Nearby Captain Szendrey spoke quietly and urgently with another man, who then turned and trotted into a nearby warehouse. A moment later he returned, followed by a familiar figure.

Sir Edward.

Maura’s heart dropped and beside her Mugsie wore a vile oath under breath.

“Blast and damn, I hate when I’m right.”

Maura glanced at her. “You knew?”

She shrugged. “I was starting to suspect the mole had to be either him or that bitch Lytton,” her fists clenched, her voice low with anger. “The evidence was starting to point squarely at his office.”

Sir Edward smiled faintly as he reached them. “It’s such a cliche thing to say, but we do meet again, Doctor Isles.”

Maura raised her chin defiantly. “It certainly is a cliche, Mr. Nelson, and I am very displeased by the circumstances.”

His face darker at the name she used, and he leaned into her angrily.

“I am Sir Edward, Earl of Downshire!”

Mugsie pushed him back angrily. “You will be nothing when they convict you for treason!” she shouted, her face mottled with fury. “I hope they rebuild Tyburn Tree and dangle your disgusting body at the crossroads for all to see. Your head on a pike outside the Tower of London would be too good for traitors like you!”

He swore and backhanded her. Maura reached out quickly to steady her but she straightened instantly, wiping the trail of blood from her lip while still staring murderously back at him. The guards behind him raised their guns but he waved them back.

“Always the noble loyalist, _Lady Margaret_ ,” he sneered. “Such a fool.”

Maura noticed with grim satisfaction that he rubbed his hand in obvious discomfort.

“You and Doctor Isles will suffer a regrettable accident, shame how drunk drivers are such a blight on our society. If we’re lucky they might discover your remains at the bottom of the Thames.” He looked at his watch. “My companions have by now dealt with Agent Lennox and Detective Rizzoli, and I will go back to my trusted role securing the safe guard of our great nation.” He chuckled. “While I and my companions continue to make millions.” He gazed out over the nearby piers stretching out over the river. “The peerage isn’t what it used to be, is it Lady Margaret? Estates are expensive to run. Appearances must be kept.”

Mugsie scoffed. “Many a noble family has had to sell off their holdings due to the mistakes of the past. It happens.”

“ _Not to me_ ,” he snarled, his face mottled with rage. “I refuse to pay the penalty for my idiot family, my insane grandfather and my idiot, whoring father. _I deserve_ _better._ ” He straightened and smoothed down his tie as he carefully returned his expression to one of polite disdain. “Thankfully I’ve made new acquaintances who appreciate my position and have been very helpful to my cause.”

Before the guards could stop her Mugsie lurched forward and punched him as hard she could. “People _died_ because of you! You will rot in hell!”

The guards were on her in an instant, pulling her away as Sir Edward pressed a handkerchief to his bloodied face.

“Kill her,” he said flatly to the guard at his elbow.

The man grinned and stepped forward.

Maura screamed.

 

* * *

 

 

The Vauxhall screeched to a stop in front of headquarters. The guards looked up in alarm, their weapons already raising up at the sight of Jane scrambling around to the passenger door, but then they all sagged in relief when Jane stepped back with the more familiar Agent Lennox leaning against her. One man broke away from the group and ran over to help.

“Agent Lennox, what the hell happened?” he demanded, a tall man with graying hair who’s name badge proclaimed him to be Etherton, and (according to one of Maura’s many lectures) his stripes declared him to be a Sergeant Major.

“We’ve got a problem, Sargeant,” Chas rasped. “Is Sir Edward here?”

Etherton shook his head. “He scrambled some men and took off in the chopper a couple of hours ago. It wasn’t the regular security detail, either - they’ve been stood down. Apparently these new blokes are on loan but damned if they didn’t look like a bunch of thugs to me.” Etherton rubbed his jaw and scowled. “It’s been deuced strange around here the past few days, I’ll tell you that. I’d bet my pension something funny is going on.”

“I won’t take that bet because we’ve figured out some of it, and it’s about as bad as you can imagine.” He gestured for Jane to help him towards the door. “Perhaps you could walk is in whilst I explain.”

The grizzled Sergeant’s scowl grew even deeper as he walked with them. “I was in the Falklands and in Sarajevo, you young pup, so I can imagine quite a bit.”

Chas winced as they pushed their way inside, then gasped. “Whatever you’ve seen, it’s worse.”

“Worse?” Etherton growled. “Only thing that would be worse is if we had people selling national secrets and the crown jewels out the back of—” he broke off.

Chas merely raised an eyebrow and Jane snorted under her breath.

“Bloody hell,” Etherton spluttered as he jerked to a stop, staring at them. He took a breath. “Have you got proof of this?”

“Some,” Chas replied. “Got recordings from known hostiles that implicate a contact here. Hope to find more of it here, but as you can imagine we’re in bit of a hurry.”

“You trust this guy, Chas?” Jane interrupted but as Etherton turned red and drew a breath to retort, Chas nodded immediately. “This man is a hero many times over, and has sacrificed much doing his duty for Queen and country,” he chuckled faintly. “He’s also pulled me out of several questionable scrapes with only a demand for a drink afterwards, so yes, I trust him.”

Jane shrugged and held out her free hand. “Not like I got my usual backup to help, so glad to meet you.”

His grip was strong and calloused, and Jane felt his gaze sizing her up.

“You’re that Yankee friend of Lady Margaret’s,” he said after a moment.

“More my girlfriend than me, but yes, and if you were her friend you probably wouldn’t call her that.”

He laughed then. “You know her well. Well, this old soldier is too set in his ways to call a lady anything other than her correct form of address, but she has seen fit to forgive me that.”

“Sergeant Major Etherton!” shouted a man, sprinting up to them. “A bomb threat has been called in and deemed credible. Sir Edward has ordered the evacuation of the building.”

“Has he returned?” Chas asked quickly.

“Yes, sir,” the young man replied. “He arrived at the helo pad a few minutes ago.”

Etherton’s face went blank. “Thank you, Private Jones. Please make yourself available to Captain Henshaw who no doubt is organizing things as we speak. I’m going to assist Agent Lennox here and meet you in the mustering area.”

Private Jones frowned but nodded and ran back the way he came.

“Shit,” Jane muttered. “We need to hurry.”

“Sergeant,” Chas began, his face showing his distress. “James. If this goes pear shaped, which it almost certainly will, it could be very, very bad. Your career…”

Atherton held up his hand. “If there is danger or dishonor being done here, I will not hesitate to execute my duties,” he said firmly. “Regardless of who may be involved.”

Chas looked at him, then looked at Jane, who grinned and shrugged. “Hey, I’m a Yankee, right? We’re all for a little rebellion.” Then her face hardened. “And if anyone’s hurt Maura, I will personally kill them with my bare hands if I have to.”

“Right!” With a grunt he stood straighter and drew his gun. “Let’s find ourselves a traitor, shall we?”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my lovlies, we're back with some more action packed thrills...
> 
> :)

“I’ve got a countdown on!” Mugsie shouted as the guard raised his gun. “I don’t check in, automatic delivery of all my files is delivered to a _lot_ of people.”

Maura struggled fruitlessly against her captors, but the two men holding kept a tight grip. In front of her Mugsie’s head snapped back as another guard slammed his fist against her jaw as Nelson looked on impassively.

Szendrey surged forward. “What is she talking about?”

“You’re lying,” Nelson said to Mugsie flatly. “You know nothing.”

She spit blood as she struggled to remain standing, showing no fear despite the pain. “Enjoy being on the front page, Nelson. Oh, and Miss Lytton probably shouldn’t have used her official laptop for illicit activities. She managed to trigger the alarms I had in place on internal network.” She smirked as she saw his cool expression falter. “I wasn’t sure at first if it was just her or if you were involved. Guess we’ve answered that question now, haven’t we?”

“Just shoot them both and be done,” Szendrey growled. “Then we take care of your assistant just to be safe.”

The Englishmen glared at him. “We can’t take that risk. You stay with the doctor and be ready to leave. Lady Margaret and I will make sure there are no further problems.”

“You risk too much for your precious reputation!” Szendrey spat.

Nelson whirled on him. “My reputation pays you, you fool.” His face was pale with rage. “If you wish to keep our organization intact and profitable you will do as your told.” He turned to one of the other guards. “Ensure my orders are followed,” he snapped.

The man nodded, glancing at the fuming Szendrey. “Yes, sir.”

Nelson drew himself up and straightened his tie, then glanced at his guards. “The rest of you come with me. We’re heading to headquarters. We’ll return within the hour.”

 

* * *

 

 

The hallways of British Intelligence headquarters were swarming with people heading for the exits. Jane felt as if she, Chas, and Etherton were salmon swimming upstream against the current, ducking and dodging their way towards Nelson’s office through scores of people attempting to escape the potential bomb threat.

The Sergeant Major pulled them through a side door into a small hallway lined with what looked like interrogation rooms each with a number of survellience cameras. He reached up and flipped a small switch, and Jane noticed with grim amusement that every camera light disappeared.

“Now,” he growled. “You’re talking about Nelson, aren’t you?” His expression hardened as Chas hesitated. “Don’t waste time, Lennox. There’s a stink here and he’s covered in it. Also, we just passed the last turn where it could have been anything else. There’s nothing ahead of us of note but his office.”

Chas swallowed and nodded, then pulled a small device from his breast pocket. With a quick glance at Jane he attached it to his smart phone, and a moment later an image popped up that Jane recognized - the luggage storage unit at East Croydon station. Chas’ finger stroked the video fast forward for a few seconds then he held up the screen for Etherton to see.

Jane blanched at the sound of her voice bursting from the speaker, high pitched and angry. _“So Sir Edward’s dirty, huh?”_

The camera angle changed; Chas had regained consciousness and from the viewpoint of the camera was on his knees struggling to stand.

 _“He’s been with us for years!”_ came Lovász’s response.

Jane gritted her teeth as Chas’ body cam showed his slow progress down a row to the sounds of more shouting and shots, then emerged into the main corridor just in time to see the final shootout.

The Sergeant Major’s face was mottled with rage, his hand clenched around the butt of his holstered gun. “He left, then he came back,” he finally muttered, once he managed to choke back his rage. “If he thinks he’s still safe, then why leave. And if he felt he was compromised, why return.” His eyes narrowed as he considered this thought.

Chas regarded him, his own face pensive. “He probably wanted to be at the hospital with Szendrey to control anything that came up, and having Mugsie and Maura handy as potential hostages.” He paused, still thinking hard. “When we called in that Lovász and his contact betrayed us and were dead, so Sir Edward has to have found out that Jane and I are still alive. That means he knows he could be at risk.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Which means the only reason he’d come back here is if there’s something here he needs.”

“Or needs to make sure is not found,” Etherton finished. The old Sergeant’s face had settled from fury to a steely resolve, and Jane was reminded of one of Maura’s favorite poems, by Tennysond: _We are not now that strength which in old days, moved earth and heaven._ Maura had explained, at length, how it referred to the death of the age of heroes. Now having met Sergeant Major Etherton, Jane thought with a slight smile, Maura might have to reassess that view.

“Mugsie!” Chas burst out suddenly. “She’s been tracking this mess for ages, despite Nelson trying to wave her off. She has to have information he wants to get his hands on.”

Etherton nodded grimly. “He had an accomplice call in a bomb threat to clear the building. He’ll probably have her and Maura with him and doesn’t want witnesses.”

“Or there’s actually a real bomb he’s planning on detonating to cover his tracks,” Jane said, her own anger growing. “Who’s going to check him for some C4 or some shit in a briefcase, especially these so-called ‘new’ security guards of his?”

“Bloody hell,” Etherton swore again. “So where will he go?”

“Mugsie’s office,” Chas responded instantly. “Her most secure information is only accessible from there.” The agent was sweating, one hand pressed to his ribs where he had been kicked, but he waved away their looks of concern.

The Sergeant’s hand went back to his gun and this time he drew it, checking the safety as he did so. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead as Jane pulled the pistol Chas had given her earlier from her pocket. He nodded at the professional way she held it, then scowled at Chas who merely shrugged.

“Don’t tell me where you got that pistol, Detective,” Etherton grumbled. “I have enough problems right now.”

“You can have it if you want,” Jane smirked, holding it butt first to him.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Given everything, I think I’d rather you kept it, if it’s all the same to you.” He glanced back at Chas. “I’ll take the lead, shall I? Then our friend Agent Lennox, and you’ll take rear guard, alright?”

Jane nodded. Etherton cracked the door leading back to the hallway and peered out. “Empty. Off we go, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Hülye,_ ” Szendrey muttered under his breath. The police captain glared at the guard standing warily nearby, his arms crossed as he watched over them both. Everyone else had gone back to British Intelligence headquarters with Nelson, Mugsie in tow.

Maura allowed herself small smile. She channeled Jane and her ability to rattle suspects. “ _Melyik rész hülye?”_

Szendrey’s eyes widened at hearing Maura speak Hungarian.

“Really, please tell me?” she murmured. “Which part of all this is the most stupid to you? Being a traitor to your country, or being a lackey to some like Nelson?”

Rage darkened his features once again. “ _Nagyhangú seggfej._ Big asshole, that one. I don’t know why he is tolerated as much as he is.”

Maura studied him out of the corner of her eye. “János Farkas clearly disagrees with you.” She mentally patted herself on the back when she saw him flinch. “Or shall I call him Blofeld?”

Szendrey stood up in agitation, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began to pace. “Farkas is a fool! Thinking he could sway his daughter to join us, sending his idiot son to recruit her. This whole mess is his fault.” He stopped and glared at Maura. “ _Hülye szuka lánya._ Stupid bitch daughter.” He stared out towards the river where a container ship was making its way ponderously towards a nearby commercial dock. “There should be a boat there.” He whirled at stared at the guard who had drawn closer, his gun in hand. “There’s no boat.” His voice was a low growl.

The guard’s face set and he raised his gun, then flew backwards, a bloom of red erupting on his white shirt.

Maura leapt to her feet and hurried over, barely glancing at Szendrey as he pulled his hand from his pocket, the pistol he’d fired still smoking slightly and the hole in the front of his jacket attesting to his shot. She kneeled down to assess the guard, pressing against the wound to slow the blood loss. He groaned at her touch.

“Hold still,” she said hurriedly. “Is there anyone else here? Someone who can help?”

“No,” he rasped. “Just us.”

“What are you doing,” Szendrey demanded. “Get away from him!”

“I’m a doctor,” Maura retorted as she struggled out of her jacket, pressing the gray wool against his chest. “He needs an ambulance!”

“He needs a priest, not a doctor,” he gloated. “That was a good shot, eh?”

Maura shook her head, biting back an angry response. He strode forward and shoved her aside, pumping two more shots into the prone man’s chest. She flinched and cried out, unable to tear her eyes way from the blank gaze of the now dead man.

“Too late for priest, let’s go,” Szendrey announced. “I am no lackey, and you,” he stopped and leered at her. “You are now my insurance policy to make sure I get out of this mess.”

 

* * *

 

Etherton raised his hand and Chas and Jane pulled up, looking around warily as he peered down a side passageway before waving them forward. Chas was pale and sweating but had steadfastly refused to retreat to safety, and Jane eventually just shrugged and pulled one of his hands to her shoulder so she could help him along. Two more long hallways later the sergeant brought them to another stop, and now all three could hear voices, muffled, but nearby.

Etherton leaned in. “Lennox, you take the rear now, alright? Keep any surprised off our backs.”

Chas nodded, his face drawn with exhaustion and pain, but his eyes were still steely with determination.

“Detective, through that door there,” Etherton pointed to a plain steel door a little ways down the hall. “Is the side entrance into the computer division. It is exactly opposite from Lady Margaret’s office.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”

“I hear more than a few voices, so I suspect we’ll be outnumbered,” he continued. “Reinforcements aren’t really an option at this point.”

Jane smirked at him. “Come on, stiff upper lip.”

He glared at her. “I’ll have a little less nonsense from you,” he said crisply. “Let’s see how well Yankees can clear a room.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jane replied, her eyes fixed on the door. “I can clear a room like you wouldn’t believe.”

Chas snorted, then coughed, then groaned. “Good God, don’t make me laugh, Rizzoli,” he moaned.

She clasped his shoulder, then moved forward, placing one shoulder against the wall to one side of the door. She held her gun up ready to drop into a shooting stance then looked over at Etherton.

“Right,” he said softly. “Quietly, now”

With remarkable patience he eased the door open just enough to get a glimpse of the lab. After a moment, he looked over at where Jane waited and held up one hand with all five fingers raised then gestured towards the right of the door. Jane took a deep breath then nodded. Etherton eased himself through the door and disappeared towards the left. Jane crouched low and followed, going right. Just past the door a long row of tall filing cabinets provided some cover, and beyond those across the expanse of desks a small group of men clustered around a closed door. She caught sight of Nelson and knew by the muffled curse from Etherton that he’d spotted him also. He held up the index fingers of each hand, making circling motions. Jane nodded, then started creeping silently along the wall away from the door. Across from her, Etherton did the same, moving the opposite direction. They left Lennox holed up by the door in a protected spot from where he could provide cover.

Voices rose across the room and Jane froze, then watched in consternation as the traitorous patrician gestured to one of his men before stepping back, revealing the battered but still defiant form of Lady Margaret Collingsworth. The other man brought his gun hand around and landed a hard blow against her temple and she slumped instantly, blood streaming down her face.

“You hit her too hard, you fool,” Nelson shouted. He kicked the prone form of Mugsie in a fury, then jerked around in surprise as the ferocious roar from behind them.

Jane whirled to see Chas charge forward, his arm outstretched and already firing. She swore and charged after him, trusting Etherton to provide _some_ cover. The guards scrambled to bring up their own weapons, but Chas and Jane took them out with frightening speed. The last guard standing screamed and threw his gun away at the sight of death approaching him and dropped to his knees. Behind him Nelson was attempting to lift Mugsie’s body as a shield but a shot through his shoulder from Jane threw him back against the wall. He screamed shrilly, his good hand clutching the wound as blood seeped through his fingers.

Chas didn’t slow down until he staggered up to the wounded man and pressed his gun to Nelson’s forehead.

Jane kneeled on the back of the surrendered guard as she watched Etherton stride forward, his face blank.

“What in the holy hell was _that,_ Agent Lennox,” he growled, then slowed as got closer.

Jane noted the tremble in Chas’ hands. “Chas,” she said more quietly. “He’s secure. Step back.”

“Fucking bastard is a traitor,” the blonde rasped. The tremble in his hands increased. “You dared lay your hands on her, you disgusting piece of filth”

“Get this maniac off of me,” groaned Nelson. “Edgington, I want you to arrest this man—”

Jane rolled his eyes.

“That’s Sergeant Major  _Etherton_ to you, Sir Edward,” the solider advised as he joined Lennox, watching him closely. “Also, don’t bother. You’re under arrest for treason.” His face softened slightly as he looked at Chas. “Agent, I need you to step back.”

“He _hurt_ her,” Chas repeated hoarsely. Tears streaked his cheeks and he pushed harder the muzzle harder into Nelson’s skin.

“I know, son,” Etherton said, his voice soothing. “But we need him alive.”

Jane finished zip tying the surviving guards hands and feet together and hurried over to Mugsie. To her enormous relief she saw the unconscious woman breathing easily, and the blood flow from the gash on her face was slowing.

“Chas, she’ll be alright, okay?” Jane called out. “She’ll have a bitch of a headache, but I suspect she’ll be bossing us around soon enough.”

Etherton placed one comforting hand over Chas’ trembling ones, gently pulling the gun away. “It’s over, lad.”

“Oh no it’s not,” Jane replied. “Get some medics up here will you? I have some pressing questions for this asshole.”

“Right,” Etherton agreed as he led Chas away. “Just don’t kill him. Paperwork, you know.”

Jane sank down to one knee. Despite the pain he was in, the former head of British Intelligence sneered at her.

“Only one question I care about, Sir Dickwad,” Jane said, her voice surprisingly calm.

“You insufferable bitch,” he retorted, closing his eyes. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“You have one chance to answer,” she continued, ignoring his taunt. “Where is Maura?”

He did not answer, though a smirk appeared on his thin lips. Jane shrugged and lunged forward, her fist closing around Nelson’s genitals through his expensive wool dress pants.

He screamed as she squeezed.

“Wrong answer,” she stated, her voice eerily calm even as she twisted her wrist, his sensitive parts crushed in her unrelenting grip. “I promise you I can do this for a long time, you bastard.”

“ _SHE’S WITH SZENDREY AT EAST LONDON DOCKS, NEAR THE PETROLEUM DEPOT_ ” Nelson shrieked, his face ashen.

“A hostage?” When he didn’t answer, Jane twisted her fist a little more, then jammed her other first hard against Nelson’s bullet would. The resulting scream was blood curdling.

“ _YES, OH GOD STOP, I’M BEGGING YOU!_ ”

Jane relaxed her grip as the former head of British Intelligence slumped over with breathless sobs. She looked over at Chas and Etherton, and smiled faintly at their horrified looks.

“Bloody _hell_ , Detective,” breathed the sergeant in awe. “That was terrifying.”

“I was in a hurry,” she shrugged. “Do you know the place he’s talking about?”

He nodded. “My men are on their way to secure this area,” he replied. “There’ll be medics with them.” He stood, leaving Chas on the ground cradling Mugsie’s hand. “Then we’re off.”

“I take it you want to come?”

The sergeant smiled grimly. “And let you have all the fun, Detective? I think not.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jane's not the only badass, it turns out...

The large van carrying them rocketed through traffic, and Jane gritted her teeth at every sharp turn and pothole. Beside her Private Jones was pale and sweating, his weapon held in a white-knuckled grip.

“You okay?” Jane asked quietly, her voice kept low for privacy’s sake.

Jones nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

She watched him sweat for another minute.

“You seem nervous.”

He gulped, then glanced at her. “Is it true Sir Edward is a traitor, Miss?”

Jane sighed. “Looks that way, kid.”

He looked away, and Jane noticed that many of the young men in the squad were subtly and not so subtly eyeing her. Their two female compatriots looked smug. She looked over at Etherton in confusion, but the Sergeant Major merely winked at her.

“Miss?”

She turned her attention back to the uncomfortable private. “Yeah?”

“Is it true you twisted Sir Edward’s willy right off?”

Etherton guffawed loudly, and all the men looked at him anxiously. “Lads, his willy is still attached, but I’ve no doubt Detective Rizzoli could have had it off right quick should she chose.”

Twenty awed faces stared at her.

“Her Majesty would do well to make her a Dame of the Empire for that move,” Etherton continued with a grin. “Fastest interrogation _I’ve_ ever seen.”

There was a smattering of applause despite the pained looks, and Jane chuckled. “And here I thought you’d say it wasn’t sporting, Sergeant Major.”

A man down the row shook his head. “Whatever it takes for Queen and country, Miss,” he said firmly.

“Well said, mate,” added another. “But it’s a sight I hope never to see, I’m not ashamed to say.”

There was a rumble of agreement which turned to chuckles when one of the women, another private, called out, “Good thing you have us then, Corporal!”

The mood in the van relaxed a bit until a general straightening of spines as the driver called back. “Two minutes!”

“We have at least two hostiles plus a potential hostage, lads,” Etherton advised. “Look sharp and shoot second, is that clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

The truck rumbled to a stop and they all jumped out, immediately coalescing into four man teams that dispersed quickly and quietly into search mode. Around them the warehouses were eerily silent, and there was no sign of life.

Jane stayed close to Etherton, her gun half raised as they swept through. Two of the squads were checking doors as they went, searching for any that might be unlocked. She heard a muted crackle of voices that caused Etherton to hold up his fist, bringing the squad to a halt.

“Copy that,” he finally muttered, his face unreadable. “Stand by.” He holstered his gun and walked casually towards the piers. The rest of the squad looked confused but followed along, their guns still at ready.

They turned the corner of the closest warehouse, and Jane burst into a run. Before her Maura stood calmly, Captain Sándor Szendrey of the Budapest Rendőrség bound and gagged next to a still body partially covered by the doctor’s jacket.

Jane swept her into her arms, not noticing the tears running down her cheeks until she felt Maura’s hands wipe them away.

“I’m so sorry, Maura, I never should have left you,” Jane began, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Are you okay, do you need—” She was cut off by soft lips, and they only broke apart at the sound of coos and a few suggestive coughs. Jane looked up, annoyed, to see them surrounded by the security detail, all beaming brightly at them.

“You must be the esteemed Doctor Isles,” Etherton said, stepping up to shake Maura’s hand. “Sergeant Major James Etherton, Military Intelligence Security Battalion. A pleasure.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Major,” she replied with a smile.

He looked down. “This your work, Doctor?”

Her smile faded but did not disappear. “This man,” pointing at Szendrey, “is a collaborator of Edward Nelson’s, though not necessarily a reliable one. We were supposed to wait for Nelson’s return but Szendrey shot Nelson’s man before attempting to flee with me.” She grinned at Jane. “Thankfully he wasn’t very worried about my ability to fight him and I used some moves from Jane’s self-defense training to subdue him.” At Jane’s raised eyebrow she added, “A stomp of the stiletto to the foot, a knee to his genitals, and an elbow to his throat.”

Jane smirked proudly. “That’s my girl.”

“Are all you Yankee women this tough on willies?” asked one of the other soldiers with a wince.

Maura looked confused but Jane merely shook her head. “Tell you later,” she said quietly, then raised her voice. “You bet. So I don’t recommend crossing any of us.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Private Jones agreed fervently.

 

* * *

 

 

Chas Lennox looked up as the door to his hospital room banged open and Jane appeared holding a paper sack and a mischievous expression. Behind her appeared Etherton, still in uniform despite being off duty. Jane assumed it was a Sergeant Major thing.

“Hey Chas,” she said brightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been kicked by around six mules,” he answered with a rueful expression. “But better than I was.”

“Oh good.” She plopped down in one of the chairs and tossed him the bag. “Here, I brought you something.”

“You shouldn’t have,” he began, then stopped as a waft of steam enveloped him. “Oh, you beauty,” he moaned. “You brought me fish and chips from Poppies.”

“Best in London, according to your friend here.”

Chas shoved his hand in eagerly and emerged with a golden and crispy piece of fried fish. He crunched it with a blissful expression. Jane deftly snagged a chip.

“Not bad,” she admitted and stole another one.

Etherton looked out into the hall carefully, then produced a bottle of stout form under his tunic before retreating to the doorway to intercept any curious nurses. “Think you’ll need this as well.”

“I have died and gone to heaven,” Chas announced as he took a long pull from the bottle.

Etherton scowled at him. “You almost did die, not to mention get us killed,” he growled, then his expression softened. “It was also a brave thing to do. Mad, but brave.” He sighed bitterly. “I should turn in my stripes, turning into a romantic fool in my old age.”

Chas sputtered around his stout. “Romantic?!?”

Jane grinned. “Come on, Romeo. You did not go Rambo on those guys because of patriotism.”

Chas stared at her, his cheeks coloring.

She groaned. “You cannot tell me you don’t have the biggest crush on Lady Margaret Collingsworth, Agent Lennox. A blind man could see it from two countries away.”

“Three countries, I reckon,” Etherton commented from the doorway.

He shook his head. “She’s a member of the bloody peerage,” he muttered. “Not for the likes of me.”

Jane smacked his foot. “Don’t be an idiot.”

He recoiled. “I _am_ an idiot, a stupid bloke from South Sheffield with a dead mother, a drunk father, and a brother in prison, and I’ve no business thinking thoughts like that about Lady Mar—”

Jane smacked him again, this time on the head.

“Ow!”

She glared at him. “I’m the crazy blue collar cop from Southie who never went to college, daughter of a philandering Italian plumber who ran off with a girl younger than me, and _my_ brother is in jail for running over a priest. Despite this Maura Isles, whose blood is a blue as they come, gave my mother a place to live and for some reason loves me back.” She sat back after swatting his head once more for good measure. “You just need to grow a pair and ask Mugsie out.”

Chas muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” demanded Etherton.

“I was going to,” Chas admitted more loudly, his face forlorn. “Then she became a baroness.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” sighed Jane. “Have you heard her? I haven’t even known her that long and I know she hates all that shit! She would no sooner prefer some snobby bastard than I would prefer Etherton, here!”

Etherton coughed, then grinned. “Can’t blame you on that one, Detective. I’ve seen your Doctor and I’d have to agree.”

Jane put on a fake expression of sympathy. “Want me to hold your hand while you do it?”

Chas scowled and threw a chip at her. She deftly caught it and popped it in her mouth with a leer.

“Fine, but you’re getting me drunk when she turns me down.”

Jane shrugged. “Doubt that’s gonna happen, but you’ve got a deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Maura stood looking out the window of a different hospital room, more lushly appointed than the more utilitarian room three floors away where Jane held her impromptu party with Agent Lennox — rank still held its privileges. She knew objectively that Mugsie’s injuries were not life threatening, but the blow to her head had been severe and Maura wouldn’t relax until her friend awoke. She’d had to send Jane away; the tall detective was determined to not leave the doctor’s side, but Maura knew she’d be better equipped to cheer up the recovering Chas than hovering over her and her quiet vigil.

Behind her she heard a long exhalation of breath and turned to see Mugsie blinking slowly.

“Bloody hell.”

Maura sank down onto the stool next to the bed and took her friend’s hand. “Welcome back.”

It took a while but finally Mugsie’s blue eyes focused on her companion. “Isles. Hell of a spotted dick alarm.”

Maura blinked back tears as she chuckled. “You always were very creative in the trouble you could get us into.”

A nurse poked her head into the room. “Lady Collingsworth, you’re awake! I’ll fetch the doctor.”

“Bollocks,” Mugsie groaned. “Smack her if she calls me that again, will you?”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Maura scolded her. “And you’ll behave yourself, young lady, and let the doctor examine you, or I’ll call your mother.”

“She’s in Cannes.”

“I’ll call _my_ mother.”

Mugsie rolled her eyes. “You play dirty, Maura. And you used to be such a nice girl.”

“Jane has taught me well.”

“Yes, she has,” Mugsie admitted, her eyes softening. “Love looks good on you, Isles. I’m truly happy for you. Don’t botch it.”

Maura blushed but shook her head. “I won’t.” She cocked her eyebrow back at the pale baroness. “I’m looking forward to the person who finally settles you down, you know.”

“Never happen, I assure you,” Mugsie retorted.

Maura merely shook her head with a knowing smile.

A young man in a doctor’s coat entered the room. “Good afternoon, Lady Margaret,” he said cheerfully, a clipboard in his hands.

Maura bit her lip at Mugsie’s look of disgust.

“Your scans all came back beautifully. You’ll likely have a headache off an on for the next few days, and we’ll need to keep you overnight for observation due to the length of time you were unconscious, but I suspect we’ll be able to release you tomorrow in time for your next garden party.” The doctor smiled at her, blissfully unaware of the potential for violence.

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Maura with a warning look at her friend. “That’s excellent news.”

Mugsie sighed.

“Please press the call button if you need anything or have any further questions,” the doctor added before excusing himself, leaving a fuming baroness and amused medical examiner in her wake.

“I hope he’s not attached to his credit rating,” Mugsie muttered.

“Be nice, Mugsie.”

“Fuck that.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to the reader who pointed out that I was referring to Etherton as a Master Sergeant, as there's no such thing in the UK armed forces. I had actually started out with him as a Sergeant Major (which is) then somehow my brain farted. I think I've corrected all the references, but do point out any I've missed.

The walls of the hospital room were shiny and white, with an assortment of scuff marks from where moving equipment banged against the walls. The sole window revealed a gray and overcast English day, the view nothing more than the next building over.

“Okay, you can turn around now, Detective,” Chas said gruffly.

  
Jane swiveled to see him finish buttoning his trousers. The bandages around his ribs were just visible through his undershirt. Jane helped him with his dress shirt, smirking as he grunted.

  
“Come on, stiff upper lip.”

  
He glared at her. “Don’t think I won’t give you a right smack eventually.”

  
“Yeah, look at me being concerned about that,” Jane dead-panned as she knelt down to help him into his boots.

 

  
Etherton poked his head into the room. “You lot ready? We need to get a move on.”

  
“I am,” smirked Jane, “we’re just waiting on Sir Gimpalot over here.”

  
This time Chas actually did attempt to smack her, then yelped at the pain that flashed across his ribs.

  
Etherton chuckled. “Easy there, lad. You’re not going to want to miss this.”

  
Chas glared at the laughing detective, then nodded. “Right. Time to pull tight the noose.”

——————

Maura glanced up to see Jane enter the troop transport van, helping a stiffly moving Agent Lennox. The rest of Etherton’s squad broke out in applause and Chas looked blank with surprise.

  
“Hope you gave as good as you got, Lennox,” called Private Jones.

  
Jane eased him down onto a seat. “That remains to be seen, Jones.”

  
Etherton pounded on the ceiling as he took his own seat, shouting towards the driver. “Oy! Let’s get a move on!” He looked over at Jane. “We managed to dig up some info after we ransacked Nelson’s office. I’ve got a squad watching an address we think more of these pikers may be hiding.” He nodded at the the two women. “You two will need to stay in the van with young Lennox, but seemed only fitting that you at least come along since our reciprocity agreement is technically still in play.”

  
“Not to mention we might need the Yank’s grip of death!” shouted a trooper on the far side of the fan, to the roaring approval of the rest of the squad.

  
Maura surprised Jane by nodding, a fierce expression on her normally serene face. The tall detective raised one eyebrow, a slight curl to her lips. “Getting vicious on me, Maur?” she murmured under her breath.

  
Maura straightened up haughtily. “I merely have a strong desire to see justice done.”

  
“Of course.”

  
The van lurched to a stop. Etherton gripped Chas’ shoulder firmly. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  
Chas glared, then nodded with obvious reluctance.

  
“Don’t worry,” Jane drawled. “We’ll keep him out of trouble.” She looked sternly at the blonde agent. “He’s got a woman to ask out.”

  
Etherton rolled his eyes and stepped through the door.

  
“Good luck, Sergeant Major,” Maura called. “Stay safe.”

  
“Not a worry, Doctor,” Etherton winked. The door closed softly behind him. The three remaining exchanged glances, then settled in to wait.

  
They did not have to wait long. Shouting erupted outside, and Jane peered carefully through the window. “I’ll be damned.” She turned and grinned at Chas and Maura, both watching her anxiously from the other side of the van. “Don’t think they were expecting company.”

  
“Don’t think so either, Miss,” commented the driver, the only other occupant of the van. He had one hand pressed to his ear, listening hard. He started to chuckle. “Definitely not.”

  
A few moments later and the various squad started to emerge from the nondescript building, along with several men with angry expressions, their hands on their heads as they stumbled along under the watchful eyes of their captors.

  
The last two figures caught everyone’s attention; the first was a blonde and buxom young lady wrapped in a towel; a steady stream of cockney curses flew from her lips as she chastised her companion. He was dark-haired, similarly bedecked with a towel wrapped around his waist and a mortified expression.

  
“Lovely to see you, Doctor Faulkner,” she muttered gleefully. “So much of you to see—”

  
Maura fought to keep a straight face as she joined Jane at the window.

  
“He’s gained weight,” Maura commented matter of factly.

  
Jane stared at her in stunned delight. “Mee-OW, Doctor Isles.”

  
Maura looked at her with what Jane was sure was feigned innocence. She noted absently that Chas was holding back a snicker.

  
“As you’re aware, Jane, it’s important to be conscious of one’s health, particularly as one gets older.”

  
Jane chortled, the bumped their shoulders together. “I’d hate to see what you think of me as I get old.”

  
Maura’s eyes darkened briefly as she considered it, then responded with a lowered voice. “I have no doubt you will be utterly magnificent.” She trailed her eyes down Jane’s lanky frame and the detective flushed.

  
The door banged open just as Jane leaned forward for a kiss, reminding them both forcefully of their location. They sprung apart quickly, though Maura blushed when she heard Jane’s growl behind her.

  
“We’ll finish this later, Doctor Isles.”

  
Etherton smirked, but said only. “All clear. The guards were all playing poker and watching some football, the idiots.” He shook his head, apparently disgusted at the state of the modern criminal. “Any chance you ladies could help us with initial identifications?”

  
“Yeah, please get them out of here before they give me a show I’d rather not see,” chimed in Chas. The two women leveled matching glares at him, but here merely grinned.

  
Maura accepted Etherton’s hand as she exited the van, her heels tapping down on the brick driveway. “Thank you, Sergeant,” she murmured as she turned and walked towards the group near the building’s entrance.

Jane tagged along, beaming at the scornful strut Maura adopted as she approached her old boyfriend. The woman in the towel was being led away to a waiting car as they approached, and Jane could clearly hear her complaining to her guard.

  
“—couldn’t you have waited until I got me bunse, ya bloomin’ prat copper?”

  
Jane coughed back a laugh, drawing the attention from the capture group. Ian paled at the sight of the two women, glancing down at this towel and then sidelong at his companion. The older man jerked his head towards the approaching women, his eyes furious but saying nothing. Ian squared his shoulders and adopted a bright smile.

“Hallo, Maura,” he called out.

“Doctor Isles,” Maura corrected him as she came to a halt. “It’s been a long time, Doctor Faulkner.” She eyed his mostly nude body with thinly veiled contempt. “Last time we met you were more appropriately dressed.”

He winced, then rallied gamely. “Well, always adaptable, me.” He took a half step forward and lowered his voice. “Don’t suppose you could help a friend out, for old time’s sake? Just having a bit of fun here, not sure what’s going on—”

Jane scoffed, “Keep telling yourself that, Farkas.”

Both men jumped as Maura nodded.

  
“I’m—I’m sorry?” Ian stammered.

  
Jane ignored him and turned to Etherton. “This is Ian Faulkner, whom Mugsie was able to identify as Imre Farkas, son of Janos Farkas.” Jane pointed her chin at the older man. “Never met him, but I’m assuming that’s him.”

  
“He does seem to share many physical characteristics of Katalin,” Maura agreed. “Your sister,” she added with a pointed look at Ian.

  
He winced again. “I wasn’t going to sleep with her, Maura—”

  
The sound of the back of Jane’s hand hitting Ian’s bare chest echoed off the building.

“That’s Doctor Isles to you, asshole.”

  
Etherton cleared his throat over Ian’s splutter. “Now that we have our preliminary identification, let’s all head back to headquarters, shall we?”

  
Finally the older man spoke up. “I will do no such thing,” he rasped in heavily accented English. “I have diplomatic immunity—”

  
“No, you bloody well do not!” Etherton roared, suddenly in Janos’ face. “You have at best forged paperwork from a bloody traitor who now sits in a cell and if were up to me he’d never see the bloody light of day again.” He signaled to his surrounding squad who stepped forward and shoved them towards another waiting van. Janos and Ian stared at him, Ian’s eyes wide in shock, Janos’ face mottled with fury. “Hopefully the lot of you will rot in hell together,” the Sergeant snarled as he slammed the door shut. Then he took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and turned back to the two women.

  
Maura was impressed by how fast he regained his composure.

  
“Well now,” he said after a moment, his voice once again cheerful. “A spot of tea would do very nicely right about now.”

——————

Maura looked up as Jane entered the room. The Detective was juggling three cups in her hands and with some relief she handed one to Maura and another to Mugsie, sitting next to Maura in wheelchair.

  
“Any sign yet?”

  
Maura shook her head. “Her medication was adjusted to allow her to regain consciousness naturally, which should happen any time now.”

  
“So we just wait,” said Mugsie, sipping her tea.

  
“Yes,” Maura agreed.

  
All three women watched the fourth, occupying a hospital bed with many wires and tubes dropped across her. The beautiful Hungarian remained unconscious and pale, but her breathing tube had been removed and her vitals had definitely stabilized.

  
Maura sighed, her thumb rubbing the back of a frail hand. She had suffered so much just because of who she was related to; it was a scenario she herself knew all too well.  
“When do they let you out of this place anyway,” Jane said to Mugsie.

  
The baroness shrugged. “Tomorrow maybe. Doctors and their need to do observations.” She glared at Maura.

  
“I’ll remind you that I work on dead people, Lady Margaret,” Maura replied, smiling faintly at the expected splutter of outrage. “My observations usually involve sawing open one’s chest and weighing internal organs on a scale.”

  
“Pedant.”

  
A faint cough, and all attention was focused on the figure in the bed.

  
“Some of us are trying to sleep,” whispered Katalin, her voice hoarse but amused.

  
“Welcome back,” murmured Maura, her eyes scanning the monitors carefully. “How do you feel?”

  
Katalin attempted to shift to a more comfortable position and groaned at the effort. “ _Másnaposság_. Hungover. Day six of a five day drink.”

  
“If only that were the case, I suspect you would have enjoyed the lead up more,” drawled Mugsie.

  
“Mugsie.” Maura said reproachfully, then turned to Jane. “Will you please alert the nursing staff?”

  
Three nurses and two doctors (in addition to Maura) later and Katalin was deemed officially on the road to full recovery. Mugsie, despite loud protests, had been returned to her room by the nursing staff, and Jane was off in search of some non-hospital food to bring back for dinner.

  
“It seems so strange, Maura,” Katalin looked pensively out the window; unlike Agent Lennox her room looked out towards the Thames, and the twinkling lights of London were a bright and cheerful view.

  
Maura regarded her curiously. “Which particular circumstance are you referring to?”

  
Katalin chuckled. “All of it, I suppose. My father, an unknown brother, men I knew and worked with in the Rendőrség turning out to be criminals…” she trailed off, then rubbed her fingers together nervously.

  
“The fact that you were both kidnapped and poisoned would also be quite disconcerting,” Maura added.

  
“Disconcerting! Yes, I suppose that’s a word for it.” She shook her head. “It is the stuff of movies, it should not be my life.” Her discomfort showed in her hands; fingers rubbing against each other nervously. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted finally.

  
Maura cocked her head at her. “About what?”

  
“My—my family. I don’t know how to feel, about any of this,” she looked up and met Maura’s concerned gaze. “And yet I feel guilt all at the same time.”

  
Maura leaned forward, carefully separating the anguished woman’s hands then holding one between her own.

  
“You remember that I was adopted?” At Katalin’s nod, she continued. “Jane I discovered a few years ago that my biological father was in fact an enforcer, a contract killer, for the Irish Mob.”

  
Katalin stared at her. “You are joking!”

  
“I am not,” Maura assured her. “I also discovered a brother I never knew, but only because his body was brought to my morgue after he had been murdered.” Maura paused, then shrugged sadly. “Unfortunately, the story only gets worse from there, but suffice it to say that Jane has always been good about reminding me of some very important truths about family.”

  
Katalin’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and her lip trembled. “What does she say?”

  
They both turned in surprise at Jane’s voice from the doorway.

  
“I told her that he was her sperm donor, not her family. The Rizzoli’s are her family, and the Isles are her family.” Jane’s face was devoid of her usual wry expression, replaced by a rare show of naked adoration.

  
Maura’s heart purred in her chest.

  
“True family is what we create for ourselves,” Jane leaned down and kissed Maura tenderly, then smiled at Katalin. “You are not defined by those men, no more than Maura is defined by Paddy Doyle.”

Katalin visibly relaxed as she considered this. Then she smiled.

  
“Thank you, Jane.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just about ready to wrap this story up. Thinking about doing another one in this universe as I'm having a really hard time saying bye to Mugsie. I kinda want a story where Frost actually gets to meet her, because how much fun would THAT be...
> 
> :)


	17. Chapter 17

The cellblock of the British security services was austere in the extreme. There was not a hint of softness amidst the gray tones of cement and steel. The interrogation room was more of the same, and Jane stood with her arms crossed, a comforting and protective presence behind where Katalin and Maura sat at the table.

Maura laid a hand on Katalin's forearm. "Last chance to back out," she murmured. "You really don't have to do this."

Katalin shook her head. "No, I must. For myself, and the memory of my mother." She straightened as the clank of the door announced the arrival of the prisoners and their guards. "I want to know the truth of it."

Private Jones entered first followed by Ian, and the fallen doctor's face lit up at the sight of Katalin and Maura. Jane bit back a smirk; it appeared he still held out hope for a reprieve. Behind him the scowling Janos followed, flanked by Agent Lennox and Sergeant Major Etherton. The look he gave the women was full of malevolence.

Jones and Etherton took up positions opposite Jane against the wall behind the now-seated prisoners, and Chas sat down next to Katalin, ensuring the woman hand support on both sides.

"What are we doing here?" Janos spat, staring balefully at his daughter. "And why is she here."

Ian flinched. "Now, Da," he began, his voice placating.

"Shut up, you fool." Janos rasped. "You will speak when I tell you to."

Chas' eyes narrowed. "You're not really in a position to give anyone orders, Farkas."

The older man snorted, his whole posture dismissive.

"Well now," Etherton said suddenly. "I don't think our guests really understand the nature of their residence here, Agent Lennox."

Chas' eyes widened in feigned innocence. "Why, Sergeant Major, I do believe you're correct."

Ian looked around blankly. "What do you mean?"

Etherton leaned forward, managing to convey both aggression and affability in a posture Jane envied and admired.

"What we mean, my dear boy, is that you and your dear 'Da' no longer exist," he said cheerfully, his face anything but. "You're off the grid. You're gone, not to be seen again."

Ian leapt up, only to be slammed down by the less than gentle Private Jones.

The doctor looked desperately around at Maura and Katalin. "What are they talking about? What's going on?"

" _KUSS_!" roared Janos, and before any could stop him he backhanded his son to the ground. " _Te nem az én fiam. Szégyen vagy, és nem jobb, mint egy kurva_."

Maura leapt back in alarm as Jane stepped forward. Chas rose and stood protectively next to Katalin.

"What's he saying?" Jane asked Maura, her voice still a whisper.

Maura gripped Jane's arm as she replied, her voice low. "He's demanding Ian be quiet, that he's a disgrace and no better than a whore."

Janos loomed over his son, his words a contemptuous hiss. " _Amikor megöltem anyádat, te kellett volna ölnöm."_

Ian froze, still sprawled on the floor.

Maura's eyes widened.

"What?" Jane demanded.

Maura swallowed as she looks at Jane. "He says he should have killed Ian when he killed his mother."

Katalin started violently, her eyes widened.

"You killed my mother?" She gasped.

"You told me she died in a car accident," Ian rose to his feet, slowly. "You said she had been drinking and drove off the road."

Katalin shook her head, vehemently. "That is a lie. She did not drink. Another car was involved. I pulled her file when I joined the Rendőrség."

"I HAD HER KILLED THE UNGRATEFUL BITCH," Janos screamed, his mottled by fury. "SHE BETRAYED ME AND I WENT TO PRISON FOR IT."

The room was utterly still.

Finally Katalin stirred, and she stared at her father with hatred.

"You went to prison for horrible crimes," she said, her words slow and deliberate. "People disappeared, never to be found. Priceless cultural treasures, stolen and sold off to some Russian oligarch."

"You lied to me," Ian said, his voice low and raspy as Maura had never heard it. "You told me you had to rescue me, that she was a bad person." He glanced at Katalin. "You even told me at one point that Katalin was with her, that she too must have died."

Janos sniffed dismissively. "You were too busy fucking everything with legs to care anyway."

Jane felt a prickle on the back of her neck but as she moved to pull Maura behind her Ian launched himself with a scream at his father. He used his shackles like a garrote around his father's neck and with a mighty heave snapped the older man's neck.

Katalin shrieked.

Janos fell to his knees with a gurgle. His face showed shock. Then, a strange expression, almost like pride, crossed his face. A moment later he slumped to the ground.

Ian stood panting above him.

"I didn't know," he said, to no one in particular. "I didn't know."

Private Jones' mouth hung open in surprise, but Etherton and Chas merely watched him carefully. Finally he looked up, his face expressionless.

"He told the truth about one thing, I guess." He sat down heavily onto a chair. "I was his whore. I tried to tell myself I was doing good, but I knew." Tears started to fall down his cheeks, unchecked. "I knew he was using me. He was always said I was so good at smooth-talking the women to get what I needed, what he needed…"

He looked up at Katalin, still standing, her own cheeks wet with tears. "I'm sorry, _lánytestvér_. My sister, I'm so sorry."

Katalin eyed him, her face a mixture of pity and disgust, then nodded slowly. "I'm sorry too. Imre."

He closed his eyes at the sound of his birth name.

After another pause, Etherton stepped forward. "Come along, lad. There's more debriefing ahead for you."

Ian nodded, resigned. He rose and stepped over his father's body and walked to the door, then paused and looked back.

He and Katalin stared at each other for a long moment, then she sighed and turned away. Maura and Jane wrapped her in a comforting embrace as he looked on with a sad expression. Then he turned and allowed himself to be led through the door. He soon disappeared from view.

Maura cupped Katalin's face in her hands. "Let's get you out of here."

Chas stepped quickly around the table to block her view of the body that remained there, but she kept her eyes focused on where Jane and Maura held her hands tightly in their own, supporting her as they left the room, leaving her father behind once and for all.

—

The Sherlock Holmes was quiet, usual for a Tuesday night. A few sat at the bar nursing their pints, and two old men were hunched over a chess table, pondering strategy.

In the back of the pub William the barman set down a tray full of shot glasses onto a large round table, each glass filled to brim with a dark amber fluid. He then placed a full bottle in the middle of the table and quietly left with his tray.

Jane passed glasses to Maura and Katalin, and Etherton did the same for Chas and Mugsie.

The Sergeant Major cleared his throat and raised his glass. "We'll have a toast around for our friend, shall we?"

"Hear, hear," murmured Mugsie. At Jane's confused glance she explained. "Each of us will say something in honor of Smythe, and we drink at each toast."

Jane grimaced. "We're all gonna be destroyed."

"That's the general idea, Detective."

Etherton lifted his glass high. "'Time cuts down all, both great and small. To our dear departed, that the devil mightn't hear of his death, till he's safe inside the walls of heaven. Now let us sit and drink and make us merry and afterward we will his body bury'." His gaze grew distant for a moment, then with a jerk of his head he swallowed his whiskey.

"Chaucer," commented Maura with an approving nod before she downed her drink.

"Amen," said Chas loudly, then he tossed back his own.

Jane took a cautious sip, choked briefly, then nodded in grudging appreciation. "Okay, that's pretty good. What is it?"

"Balvenie," answered Katalin. She smiled sadly at Mugsie. "I remember it well from our school days."

"God bless the Scots," agreed Mugsie. "Okay, my turn." She paused while Etherton poured out another round, only half full this time to Jane's relief. "As my grandfather said, 'To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die'."

Jane watched Maura expectantly and she didn't disappoint.

"Thomas Campbell," the doctor said after a moment. "I always appreciated his works."

Jane shook her head, bewildered. "Who the heck is Thomas Campbell? Never mind," she waved her hand. "I've got one." She accepted a small splash of whiskey then raised her glass. "We say this in Southie: 'Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal'."

"An old Irish saying," said Etherton with a nod. "I've heard that one." He sighed. "Too many times, truth be told."

Jane clapped him on the shoulder. The old soldier seemed more awash with memories at each drink. She saw the same looks on Korsak and Cavanaugh back home, given the right amount of booze.

Katalin raised her own glass. "I did not know this man, but I am grateful for what he did to help in this terrible matter, and I honor him. There is a bit of prayer that is said at many Hungarian memorials: _Köszönöm neki annyira, köszönöm neki, ezerszer köszönöm, hogy ő minden jóság, hogy mindig megmutatta nekünk_.  In English it is 'I thank him so much, thank him, thousand times I thank him for his every goodness that he always showed us'."

There was a murmured appreciation for this around the table, then Maura held her glass for Jane to refill. " _Cha bhithidh a leithid ami riamh_. 'His equal will never be among us again'."

Mugsie smiled faintly. "You remembered your Gaelic, Isles."

"He was the best mate a man could ask for," Chas said at last; his eyes were glistening, and as he held up his hand to make the last toast the tumbler trembled slightly at emotion he worked hard to suppress. With a deep breath he pushed himself upright, standing tall and proud as he spoke. "For our fallen comrades. 'They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them'."

"We will remember them," Etherton and Mugsie immediately echoed.

"And I for one will always remember one Ashley George Smythe, a fine solder, a better partner, and the best of men." He choked back a sob, then gulped his whiskey with a hiss.

As he sat down, Mugsie wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pressing her head against his temple. "We'll miss him, but we'll be okay, Chas."

He leaned against her and nodded. He seemed to gather himself, then reached out and covered her other hand with his own and gave a squeeze. Mugsie's answering smile was warm, if a little surprised and somewhat shy.

Jane's smirk was immediately covered by Maura's hand. The doctor glared and shook her head.

 _Behave_ , she mouthed sternly.

Jane shrugged and kissed Maura's palm before lacing their fingers together. She leaned over and brushed her lips against Maura's ear. "I'm just saying they could use a happy ending."

Maura cupped her hand along Jane's jaw. "Yes," she agreed, her eyes shining. "Especially since we already received ours."

"Hell yeah," Jane agreed as she pressed their lips together.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we end, supremely silly and covered in fluff. I've got a couple of ideas for future stories but not settled on a particular inspiration as yet. If you have any requests let me know, and thanks for reading!
> 
> -V95

 

"Oh my God," Jane moaned around a mouthful of sausage. "This is amazing."

Maura grimaced. "Jane, please."

"Let her enjoy herself, Isles," Mugsie remonstrated. "It is a specialty of the city, after all."

The lanky detective just keep chewing, a look of pure bliss on her face. Mugsie and Katalin laughed uproariously at Maura's pained look. It was a warm day in the beautiful city of Lyon, in France. Their restaurant was one of several built on a river barge, permanently parked in the Rhône. The river itself meandered past them, gurgling quietly as it sent.

Jane swallowed her mouthful and took a sip of her beer, a Westmalle Tripel from Belgium that Mugsie recommended. "Damn this is good beer, too." She turned to Katalin. "How long are you going to be living here?"

The Hungarian shrugged. "I have no idea." She sighed pensively. "At this point I have no desire to return to return to Budapest and my work with the Rendőrség. Working for Interpol will be a welcome change."

"The position you were offered is very prestigious," Maura commented as she took a sip of her wine. "Deputy Head of Forensics."

Katalin blushed. "I was very flattered to get the offer."

"Seemed only right, considering the previous holder of the position was being blackmailed by Sir Edward to falsify results," said Mugsie dryly. "And in the course of looking for you Interpol had already conducted an insanely thorough background check."

"Weirdest job interview I've ever heard of," Jane chuckled.

"I suppose I have to agree," Katalin murmured. "I will admit would have preferred something that didn't involve kidnapping and poisoning as part of the process." The effects of the thallium poisoning had largely disappeared, with only a lingering tremor in her legs that increased with fatigue, necessitating her use of a cane. However, between Maura and Mugsie's shameless use of their respective family's money and influence, the best specialists in the world had been consulted and under their care her overall prognosis had improved dramatically. "On the other hand, the cane gives me extended reach." She smacked hers into Mugsie's leg in demonstration.

The baroness snickered. "Rude." Then she sighed dramatically. "Surrounded by such peasantry."

Maura laughed. "Never change, Collingsworth."

"Never will, Isles."

The waitress appeared and deftly cleared emptied plates and glasses, the young man behind her refilling water glasses in her wake. A pair of ducks glided to a splash landing in the middle of the river to the delight of a young family in a nearby rowboat.

Katalin leaned forward towards Mugsie, her eyes twinkling. "So, my friend. I hear rumor that you have a new young man to warm your nights."

Mugsie shot Jane a filthy look. "Oh I wonder who gave you that information."

Jane shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Come now," Katalin continued. "Don't be shy. I seem to recall a weekly rotation of smitten young men stumbling through your door."

Mugsie's jaw opened in shock. "You make me sound like a complete hussy!"

"Well," Maura demurred. "In these modern times, we shouldn't condemn a woman with a healthy sexual appetite."

"You would know," Jane muttered, then flinched at Maura's swift pinch of retribution. "Ow!"

Mugsie sighed. "If you must know, he's been a perfect gentleman." She laughed suddenly. "It's right annoying actually. I'm ready for a good romp after all this nonsense."

Maura smiled her thanks at the waiter who placed a small cup of espresso before her. "I never knew you to be subtle in your approach." She studied her friend closely, noting the blush rising on the Englishwoman's cheeks. "Perhaps your fondness for Agent Lennox is a bit more extensive then is normal with your other sexual partners."

Jane choked and Katalin cleared her throat hurriedly.

"Jesus, Maura—"

Maura merely smiled as she took a dainty sip of her espresso.

Mugsie narrowed her eyes. "Given the amount of incredibly loud and apparently phenomenal carnal relations you seem to be having, Isles, I suppose that would make you an expert in such things."

Jane's choking increased, and Katalin patted her on the back in sympathy.

"Old buildings, Detective," she advised. "Assume sound travels."

"Don't worry, Jane," Maura murmured to her, seemingly unperturbed. "Revenge will always be ours." She gazed towards the doorway of the restaurant that led back towards shore.

Mugsie's eyes bulged. "I'm going to kill you, Isles."

"Now, now, Lady Margaret," Maura cooed. "I'm sure this is merely a happy coincidence. She placed several large bills on the table and stood, waving at Jane and Katalin to join her. As they stepped away a blushing but determined agent of the British Intelligence service took their place.

"Hey Chas, fancy meeting you here," Jane grinned, not bothering to hide her insincerity. She clapped him on the back. "Go get her, Tiger."

He scowled and held out the bouquet of tulips he'd brought in to the suddenly speechless baroness.

"Time for us to help Katalin finish unpacking her flat," Maura announced. "We'll see you two later."

"Much later, I suspect," Katalin observed.

"She missed you, Chas." Jane winked at Mugsie.

Chas beamed. "Did she now?"

"Sod. Off." Mugsie gritted. She swatted the arm of the smirking Englishman then sighed and laced their fingers together. "I️ guess I'm not horrified to see you," she mumbled.

Chas chuckled in relief. "I'm glad to hear it."

Jane leaned closer. "If I were you, I'd plan on staying in for at least two days." She ducked the flung napkin and ushered Maura and Katalin out. "Have fun, you two!"

"Jane!"

"Rizzoli!"

—-

Jane closed the door to their hotel room then flopped on the bed with a sigh. "It's weird to think we're going home tomorrow," she commented. “I don't even know how we're going to explain half of what's happened to the guys."

Maura turned around and presented her back to Jane who obligingly sat up and unzipped her dress.

“I’ll be glad to return home," she commented with a slight shiver as Jane continued easing the dress down her arms. "I find myself missing my morgue, and I've been craving Angela's gnocchi."

"Maura," Jane complained. "Let's not talk about my mother when I'm trying to seduce you."

"Oh, is that what you're doing, Detective?" Maura's breath caught as Jane's fingertips traced idle patterns along her hips and she felt her lace bikini briefs slide down her thighs.

"I'm trying," Jane muttered as her lips grazed across the small of Maura's back and her hands traced a scorching path up Maura's thighs. "But if you keep talking, I might have to stop."

Maura leaned into Jane's touch with a whimper. "Mmm. Consider my lips sealed, Detective."

—-

Barry Frost was a good partner and better friend, but he was also a cop, and no cop worth the badge gives up a chance to give a fellow cop a hard time when the opportunity presents itself.

However, as a smart man, he realized this was probably a bit more than Jane would be willing to easily forgive.

"Got to hand it to you, Frost," Korsak commented. "You're either the bravest son of a bitch I've ever known, or you've got a death wish."

"I'm goin' for brave," Frankie called from his desk, hidden behind a huge bunch of balloons.

Nina appeared next to his desk. "And I'm going for severe death wish." She looked around the bullpen. "Though whether it's death by Jane or by the Lieutenant when he sees what you've done here, I won't pretend to guess."

Frost rubbed the back of his neck as he took in all his carefully prepared decorations. Every desk was festooned with a riot of multi colored balloons, and Jane's desk was hidden behind rainbow streamers, pride banners, and the biggest unicorn piñata he could find sat perched on top of the pile. At Frankie's suggestion he'd filled it with dental dams. A carefully photoshopped picture of Jane and Maura sitting on a large tree branch, the letters K-I-S-S-I-N-G spelled out in bright pink letters was taped to the unicorns butt.

"Um, you know what?" Frost finally ventured. "Maybe this is just a bit much." He turned to find himself alone in the bullpen. "Guys?"

"What in eight holy fucks is this?" Jane demanded from the other side of the room. Maura peered around the fuming detective and immediately covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smile.

"Well, Jane," she observed. "I take it further announcements around our relationship status will be unnecessary at this point."

Jane's murderous glare fell on Frost.

Blood drained from his face. He took a cautious step backward, and all bravery failed him as he saw Frankie peer out of the stairwell with a huge smirk on his face. "It was all Frankie's idea!" he blurted to the younger Rizzoli's horror, then turned and pushed past him down the stairwell in terror. Frankie followed him closely, his face pale, the heavy sound of Jane's boots not far behind them.

"Sorry Frankie!"

Jane's furious shout echoed in the stairwell. "I'm going to kill you two!"

"Frost, you backstabbing mother-fuck—"

The door slammed shut on the sound of Maura's laughter.

Back in the bullpen, Nina peered carefully into the room, and seeing only Maura stepped in. Korsak trailed her in, two cups of coffee in his hand. He gave one to Maura and placed the other on the edge of his desk.

"For Jane, if she ever comes back," he chuckled. "Welcome home, Doc."

Outside came the sound of squealing tires and the muffled sounds of shouting in the street.

Nina leaned over to peer through the window, then bit her lip. "It might be awhile. But yeah, good to have you two back safe and sound."

Maura smiled and shook her head. "There's no place we'd rather be."


End file.
